We Belong III: Moving On
by mj2007
Summary: Alf and George have returned from America. For Alf, it's a whole new beginning, as he heads for Hogwarts and new friends. But can George move on from the heartbreak he left behind?
1. Chapter 1

August 17, 2008

_WHHHHSSSHHH._

A blur of speed, denim and pullover on a broomstick swirled around a gnarled oak tree, rustling branches and snapping away a few twigs. A red ball threatening to soar to the ground, was suddenly halted, seemed to become one with the broomstick, which neatly spun around.

"_Got it!"_

A breathless Alfred Weasley gently steadied his broomstick, red hair wild with exercise and face glowing with success. In his hands he held the quaffle that had been thrown by his friend Teddy Lupin, with whom he'd been reunited. Across the expansive field in Godric's Hollow, Teddy was on his own broomstick, laughing at him.

"You might consider letting me get just one in, Alf!" He yelled, in not-entirely mock exasperation.

"You've had years to learn how to score. I have two weeks left till we get to Hogwarts to translate my goalie skills to keeper!" Alf floated gracefully down to the ground, to be joined by his friend.

An adult stood just beyond them, watching them with an amused grin. "First years don't make house teams anyway, boys." He pointed out.

Both boys turned to him with identical glares, each with just one eyebrow raised. Teddy's hair turned a shade of magenta that made Alf's ruddy hues seem tame. And the adult had the grace to blush.

"Well…" Harry Potter admitted. "They don't _often_ make house teams." He tousled his god-son's hair. "And the way I made it is not advisable, to either of you…I ought to have properly broken my neck, by all rights! It's a miracle Professor McGonagle let me live."

"She wanted the house cup." Teddy playfully nudged him. "And besides, even Alf's had tons more experience on a broom than you did when you started school. Uncle Ron says Gryffindor hasn't won since Aunt Ginny graduated…McGonagle's sure to take one of us, or maybe even both, if it helps."

"But it's Headmistress McGonagle now…so she's not going to be so worried about how Gryffindor does, is she?" Alf asked, thoughtfully. Ever since he'd gotten his magic officially "back", he'd poured over Hogwarts: A Modern History so much that he could have given Aunt Hermione a run for her money on factoids.

"Oh, once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor." Harry slung his arms around both boys, guiding them towards the neat little grouping of houses. "She may have to pretend to be impartial now, but if I know her, she still bleeds Gryffindor red and gold profusely!" Harry paused. "The cups gone mostly between Slytherin and Hufflepuff these past few years, hasn't it, Alf?"

"Yes…except for one year of Ravenclaw, about five years ago. The Hufflepuffs had a great run with all the younger Bones siblings being excellent seekers." He rattled off statistics from memory with great relish, while Teddy smirked and Uncle Harry humored him. Only once he paused for breath did Teddy get a question in.

"Do you want to stay over tonight, Alf?" He asked. "We could diagram some moves out, to work on tomorrow?"

Alf hesitated, but only for a moment. "No, I think I should eat at home. Dad is cooking."

"And you want to spend as much time with him as you can before you leave for Hogwarts." Uncle Harry prodded, but with an understanding smile as Alf blushed. "I think that's a good idea, Alf. Although, you know, we'll manage to keep him occupied. Hell, if Ginny has her way, George'll be cooking _our_ dinner each night."

Alf laughed a little at Uncle Harry's understanding, and at Aunt Ginny's idea. It was true, though; he still worried about his Dad, worried about leaving him alone, and worried about being away from him. They had spent nearly the first month after they came back from America together, doing everything and sometimes nothing, but always together. George, as promised, had taught him to ride his broom, even if it sometimes made his hair stand on end in terror; they had done simple spells, studied the Hogwarts charter together, and had sung the school song…always in dirge version…while roasting marshmallows over a campfire in Harry's backyard.

Amidst all their time together, one major decision had been made by George…the tiny flat over the store in Diagon Alley was not where he wanted to raise a family. Among may reasons, he simply was unable to fully use his new-found culinary skills in the miniscule kitchen that was good for warming soup, but not much else. The two had discussed moving closer to The Burrow, but when a house had come open just down the street from Harry and Ginny, had immediately decided that was the best option. George had grumbled about it good naturedly; after all, he and Fred had talked about nothing else but _getting out, _about living more of a city lifestyle after years of unremitting family. But George had to admit, that tastes changed as one got older. And a year of having a more domestic situation, while at the same time being without family, had made him appreciate both more.

"Is he home yet, Alf…or do you want to hang about until he is?" Harry asked, knowing that the connection between Alf and George was so strong that they could often just sense each other's presence.

Alf raised his chin slightly, and gave a little smile. "Just got home, I think. I'm going to go in to the shop with him tomorrow, if he's okay with that, so I'll see you later in the week." He nodded to Teddy, who gave him a mock salute, and he watched as his friend and his Uncle Harry went on the farther path, towards Harry's house. And slinging his broom over his shoulder, and whistling, he jogged towards his own home, looking forward to a peaceful evening with his uncle.

WWWWWWW

George felt himself relaxing instantly as he came through the floo to his new home. He was glad...more than glad, really, that he'd purchased this place. It was a _home_, the place one ought to live when you had a child. And it was perfect for Alf...Ginny was nearby, which meant Teddy was around for him, and also that George didn't have to worry when he was at the shop that Alf was alone.

He smiled to himself as he entered the kitchen. Alf...alone. Two words that were quite an impossibility together. Because Alf stuck to him like glue, and had since...well, since they'd returned from Salem. The familiar ache, duller but still present, reared its ugly head, and George forced it down. He'd suffered worse losses than that of a lover in his past...and so what if in choosing this house, in the back of his mind he considered that maybe someday he and Michelle just might manage to find their way back to each other, and just might have another child...or two.

In any event, it had taken mighty persuading to get Alf to hang out with Ginny and her brood for at least three days a week. Alf had been hell bent on going in to work with him each day, but George was firm...the boy needed to start living the life of a normal eleven year old child. And they needed to wean themselves off of each other. That first month that Alf's magic had come back had been amazing, like he'd been with Alf since birth. His eagerness to learn, his delight in even the simplest of things, had been infectious, and had been a balm to him, really. But his son would be going to Hogwarts...that was the point, after all...and therefore would be away from home come September. They might as well start getting used to it gradually.

Besides, for all the fuss Alf had kicked up initially about being left behind (George was quite certain that the kid still had some latent abandonment fears) he was blossoming now. Alf was a social kid, gregarious and bound to be popular wherever he went, and being around Teddy brought out the healthy boy in both of them, and if George occasionally found himself sighing over torn jeans and scraped knees, then at least Alf was learning that George wasn't going to freak out over his being a typical kid.

The screen door banged and said typical boy bounded into the kitchen. "Hey, Dad!" He came over with a rush and a big hug that was perhaps not so typical, though George wasn't complaining. "You smell pungent. Fireworks?"

George laughed at him. "Big order...and you smell like sweaty child playing Quidditch all day long!" George brandished a wand, freshening them both. "But you still need to go have a wash, while I get working on dinner. Lamb curry sound good?"

"I'd eat ground warthogs if you were making it." Alf said, his stomach growling in agreement.

"Don't tempt me...you still haven't seen the worst of my sense of humor, kiddo!"

WWWWWWW

Later on after dinner, George was tinkering with his new project...a magical television set, something that could pull down signals of muggle programming through the air without electricity, which didn't work when surrounded by strong magic pulses. He was getting close...he could actually pick up random stray signals now, but no way to control what came in when. That had lead on more than one occasion to some rather interesting programming that made him blush crimson and dive to push Alf out of sight. Ergo the drape that now hung over his screen.

"You know..." Alf looked up from his Hogwarts book, where he was memorizing the exploits of Albus Dumbledore. "...muggleborns will probably kill for one of those when you get it working. I bet they miss the telly big time. It could be your biggest seller ever."

"Maybe." George admitted. "Although muggleborns probably only account for about 5 percent of the wizarding community, and I'm not sure how many purebloods will be interested."

"YOU got hooked." Alf pointed out.

George smiled at him. "Touché!" And then, with a gasp. "Got it...I think..." He pulled the screen away.

An American baseball game was in progress.

"Cool." Alf came over, looking at the slightly flickering screen. "It's a repeat from yesterday, Royals versus Devil Rays."

"Well, it would have to be a repeat...with the time difference it's only about 2pm back in the states." George brandished his wand, muttering an incantation under his breath. A new game came in to view, the Yankees versus the Tigers. He frowned. "I'm aiming for the Red Sox game yesterday...this is closer, but still not quite."

"Are you sure they played yesterday?" Alf asked.

George's brow eased. "Ah...perhaps..." He incanted again, and this time a repeat of a game of the Red Sox playing the Angels came in. "I needed to request the _last_ game played..." He watched in silence for a moment, and then brandished his wand, wiping out the screen. "Still needs some work, but it's getting there." He sat back on his haunches, and looked over at Alf, with a wan grin. "You're going to have that thing memorized."

"I keep reading over Dumbledore's stuff. It's funny what they say...and what they don't." Alf shut the book and came over next to George, stretching on the floor beside him. "I still say you were a better writer, and more honest."

"You only think it was more honest because you trust me." George leaned back against the sofa, watching Alf. "But it _is_ how I remember it. Memory's a tricky thing, though...it can make you see things the way you wish they had happened sometimes." He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "For example, Fred and I might not have been the paragons of justice that I recall us being. Pansy Parkinson Malfoy might remember us as being thugs."

"Of course...if you're a thug for resenting having your parents called names, or watching other students be hexed without repercussion." Alf nudged him. "But I see what you mean...perspective matters." Alf turned thoughtful eyes on George. "Can I go into work with you tomorrow? There aren't that many days left before Hogwarts, and I'm going to miss you."

George managed a smile perhaps braver than he felt. "I am going to miss you too...and I'm counting on you owling me frequently to tell me what you're up to...what professors you detest, who detests you, if there is still a burn in the third cushion on the left sofa in the common room from when Fred and I tried to make s'mores without the fireplace..." Alf laughed at that one. "And yes, you can come in to Diagon Alley with me tomorrow, but not for work...we're going to do your Hogwarts shopping. You need books, robes, potions ingredients, and of course, a wand..."

Alf lifted his head up slight. "But I don't need a wand. I have..." He hesitated, as he often did when coming to that awkward crossroads.

"You have your Dad's." George said, easily. It was no problem to think that he and Fred both claimed Alf as a son. "Wands are tricky though, Alf. Fred's wand is working perfectly fine for you, because you're not trying anything tricky, and because it does recognize in your blood the connection to its original owner. But once you find your own wand, the one destined for you, you'll understand. It will feel different to you, better, even, than this one." George stroked Alf's head gently, watching as his son battled with this.

Alf was clearly in a dilemma. "It's just...I feel like I'm really connected to him now, when I use the wand. Ever since that night when I had that fever..." Alf shrugged lightly.

George draped an arm over his shoulder, and squeezed. Alf had told him of that experience, of feeling he had actually met Fred, and that Fred had told him to go back. A few years ago George wouldn't have believed his ears...or rather, ear...but experience had made him a firm believer that, in his near death state, Alf had in fact connected with Fred. That Fred had made that sacrifice for him was no surprise. "You're still connected to him. You always will be, you know. The wand doesn't change that, one way or another."

They sat in a quietly reflective silence, watching the fire. George sensed the question before Alf asked it. "And stop worrying about me. I'm not the same man I was over a year ago. You are going to go to Hogwarts and have a fantastic time, and I will try and wrest control of the store back from Uncle Ron while attempting to dodge Fleur's well meaning attempts at match making. And when Christmas break comes around, it will be like we were never apart. Got it?"

"Got it." Alf leaned against him. "But whether you like it or not, I'm still going to worry about you _a little_. I'm afraid the boredom will kill you."

George laughed out loud at that. "Promise not, Alf. In this family, boredom is a myth."

WWWWWWW

The last two weeks before Hogwarts flew, for both Alf and George. Alf was tense with anticipation, and George, for all his bluster, was tense with worry. He told himself he was worried about Alf's getting along at school, about his having to make up for lost time with his magic, about his being tagged with a reputation from some of the teacher's for being the son of a Weasley twin. Truth was, he was a little concerned about how that new house was going to feel when he was the only one living in it. But he was determined, and he was going to move forward.

Alf looked up at him, as they strolled towards the hidden Hogwarts platform. "You know, three months is a long time, Dad." Before George could say anything to insist he would be _fine_, Alf continued, "Might be a nice time to take a vacation…maybe to America?"

George huffed…he really didn't want to fight with Alf during their last few minutes. "She can reach me…I left her instruction how. If she'd wanted to, Alf, she'd have done by now."

Alf protested. "Maybe there's something you don't know about, something going on…" Seeing George's jaw set, Alf sighed. "Right. Dropping it. Just…don't go take up with one of Fleur's offerings in spite, okay? They're pretty and all, but they're _scary._"

That did make George smile. "Right. I actually quite agree with you there…one veela in the family is enough!" He spotted Harry, with Teddy and Andromeda, and Alf ran forward to join them.

"At a run, then?" Harry laughed, seeing the glint in George's eye…and four boys, two of them adults, charged with giggles through the seemingly solid barrier, while Andromeda Tonks could no more than shake her head.

WWWWWWW

Alf and Teddy had settled in to an open berth on the train, Alf now leaning out the window to watch Uncle George waving towards them.

"Send food!" Alf yelled.

"Oi, you won't need any…the elves loved us…you'll have food up to your eyebrows!" George laughed at him.

"They can't cook as good as you do!" He yelled back, as the train jolted forward. "Take care of yourself, Dad!"

"Mail me a toilet seat!" George yelled back, with a grin at the shocked look he got in return. "Love you!" He yelled, with a well of emotion inside him.

Alf blinked. "Love you too!" He yelled back, not particularly caring that the rest of the train think him a complete sissy. Screw them if they did. He kept his eyes on George as the train lurched away.

"Brrrr…can you close that, mate?" Teddy was rubbing his arms vigorously.

Alf sighed as the track curved, sending the platform out of sight, and he slid the window up, collapsing back into the seat. Teddy sat across from him, with an understanding smile. "We'll be fine, Alf. Take over Gryffindor house by storm, we will."

Forcing a smile, Alf turned around and pulled his pet, a large sleek black-furred cat, who had a throaty purr and who instantly curled up on Alf's lap. Teddy shook his head.

"I can't believe you went cat over owl." He muttered.

"I've always liked cats." Alf protested. But there was more to this cat than Teddy could ever understand. Alf'd entered the Animal Emporium with an open mind, and this giant lump of affection had taken to him immediately. When he'd tried to walk around, the animal had followed, weaving between his legs, and purring loud enough to wake the dead. George had laughed, and told him just to give up…he'd been chosen, and the cat wasn't taking no for an answer. "What's his name?" Alf had asked the shop keeper, picking up the animal and holding him close.

"Rufus." The keeper had answered.

The jolt had thrown both he and his father, but George, before Alf could protest, had paid for the animal. "If that isn't destiny, Alf, I don't know what is."

The cat was now kneeding Alf's leg determinedly. "Easy there, Roo." He said, using the short version of the name he'd adopted immediately.

Teddy was polishing his wand carefully. "See those kids look at me when we got on the train? The third years in Slytherin?" He asked.

"Never mind them." Alf said, stoutly. "There are a lot of people who are shite in this world, Teddy, and we just found some of them early." The group of boys had jeered under their breath when Teddy walked past. It wasn't the first time that had happened in Teddy's life; when you were the son of a werewolf, even one who died a hero, people did look at you funny.

The door to the compartment slid open. A young boy…evidently a first year…looked in at them. He had dark hair, pale skin, and seemed to be almost too good looking for an eleven year old. Alf was about to invite him in, but he saw the kid's eyed narrow, as he looked from Teddy…who was resplendent in purple hair today…to him, and the visitor's mouth narrowed. Without a word, he backed away, letting the door slide back in to place.

Teddy's hair faded to a dull brown, and Alf bristled. "Don't, Teddy…it was ME he was looking at when he backed away. Maybe he doesn't like red hair."

Teddy managed a smile. "_Everyone_ likes you, Alf. No way he left because of you." Roo left Alf's lap and hopped on to Teddy's, reaching up to nuzzle the other boy's jaw, forcing Teddy to laugh. "Maybe Roo scared him away, though."

"Yeah, big fierce beast that he is…" Alf joked, glad to see Teddy's mood shifting slowly. "Clearly that guy is _not_ Gryffindor material…"

"Excuse me…"

Teddy and Alf both turned back towards the door, where a tall, thin girl with two long black braids, a pale face and wide, dark eyes, was watching them. A blush came up on her cheeks as they looked her over. "All the other compartments look full…can I sit with you two?"

Alf smiled in welcome, and Teddy's hair returned to purple. "Sure!" They said, together.

The girl was looking over Teddy with interest. "Wow. Metaphorphagus?" She asked.

Teddy perked up immediately. "Yep. Like my mum." He held out his hand. "I'm Teddy Lupin." He waited for her reaction.

There was one, but not quite what he expected. "Oh…your parents were Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks…my father told me all about the battle of Hogwarts. Pretty cool."

"I think so." Teddy held his head high. "This is my friend, Alf Weasley."

Alf was curious to see if this newcomer knew about his family as well. She in fact, did. "Oh…which Weasley are you related to? There were quite a lot, I know."

Alf smiled. "Fred is my biological father…he was killed in that battle like Teddy's parents. George Weasley is my father now." He raised an eyebrow at her. "You know quite a lot for someone from…America." He guessed

She blushed. "Is my accent that bad? I was hoping it wouldn't be." She tugged nervously at one of her braids. "My Dad wanted me to go to school where he did, instead of at Lumieres."

Seeing Teddy's confusion, Alf explained. "That's the American academy at New Orleans." And turning back to the newcomer, he continued, "I lived in Salem last year, so that's why I spotted your accent. So…do you have a name to go with that accent?" He asked.

She stuck her chin out a little defiantly, although she kept her smile. "It's Prince…Eileen Prince." Seeing that the name didn't immediately mean anything to them, she went on, "My father is the cousin of another hero who died at Hogwarts…Severus Snape."

Alf and Teddy both stared at her in confusion. "I didn't know…" Alf said, slowly, "That Professor Snape had any relatives." Alf said, thinking over the painting that hung in a lonely bar, the occupant of which had helped to create the potion which had returned his magic.

"Most people don't." She said, understanding. "I don't think he ever knew my Dad…my Grandfather was his mother's brother, and when she married muggle they stopped communicating. But my Dad always kept up with what was happening to him…we're quite proud, really, of what he did. Although some people…" She tossed her braids wildly, causing Rufus to leap up to the luggage rack. "Don't understand him. I guess you two must know better…there was a group of kids at the front of the train who were just _jerks_."

Teddy gave her a tight grin. "Yeah, I think we ran across them earlier." He admitted. The train hit a curve, and Rufus lept down once more, darting through the compartment, making the group of them laugh.

The door slid open again, and the same boy who had walked away from them earlier stood there. He looked sheepish as Teddy and Alf both glared at him. "Everywhere else is full." He said, rather shortly.

Eileen, who had not been present earlier, nodded to the seat across from her with a smile. The newcomer ignored all of them, and immediately sat down and buried his nose in one of his books. Eileen may not have been present for the earlier encounter, but she still recognized the snub. She looked over at Alf and Teddy; it was Alf who spoke. "Never mind him, Eileen. What house do you think you're going to be in?"

She turned one shoulder to the boy across from her. "I'm not really sure. My cousin was of course head of Slytherin, and a lot of my family were…but my Mom's American…she was sorted into Sagessense, which seems pretty equivalent to Ravenclaw. What house do you guys think you'll be in?"

"Gryffindor!" Teddy and Alf said together, both with broad smiles.

She raised an eyebrow at them both. "You seem very sure?"

Teddy laughed. "I suppose I could be in Hufflepuff…my mother was. But I think I'm all Gryffindor, myself…hope so, anyway. No question on Alf, though…"

Alf counted on his fingers… "My dad's one of seven, all Gryffindor…son of two Gryffindor parents, from Gryffindor families. And my Mum was a Gryffindor as well…not much else for me to think than that."

"Then I hope I'm Gryffindor too…it'd be nice to have friends once we get there." Drawing her shoulders together, she looked again at the other boy. "You there…what house do you think you'll be in?" With insistence, she moved his book down away from his face.

He went pale. "I…uh…" He gulped. "My older brother was in Hufflepuff." He looked around furtively, and again at Alf. "I'm sorry…I'm not supposed to speak to you…my father's a little…well…" He shrugged and then returned to his book.

Alf looked over at Teddy, and together they looked at Eileen. Then, as if they'd talked about it out loud, the three of them proceeded to ignore the fourth child for the remainder of the trip, instead starting a game of exploding snap. If anyone else had wished to join in, all they'd have had to do was ask.

WWWWWWW

George watched as the last customer of the day headed out the door, and he rose to lock it behind them. The day of departure for Hogwarts was always a slow day at the shop, always had been, and today had been no exception. But George had busied himself with inventory, with cleaning up the shelves, and bringing order to the chaos that the store had been left in with the last minute crush of shoppers from yesterday.

Ron was singing to himself behind him, going over the books. George smiled at his brother's off-key rendition of some Celestina Warbeck song that they would have both denied even knowing. Growing up with Molly for a mother, they had against their will absorbed her music subconsciously.

"Oi, a little less noise there, or I'll revoke that partnership, mate." He called out.

"Fine thanks I get for raising income 86 percent in my first year without you." Ron answered back.

George just chuckled and grabbed an empty box, and headed into the back rooms.

Once out of sight, he put the box down, and looked around. Here, just over a year ago, Alf had nearly blown the entire place up in a fit of anger and fear. He spotted a box of Weas-works and chuckled to himself remembering that moment, that trial that had in the end only made them stronger. Surely he would survive his son going off to school.

"Guess this is why Mum and Dad had seven of us." He said to himself, crossing through the maze of boxes. He walked in to his little office, and sat down, with a sigh. He opened the top drawer of the desk, and pulled out a box. The ring…the engagement ring…that he had intended to give to Michelle.

It still hurt. He couldn't pretend otherwise. He still didn't understand…why didn't she ever call him? Why hadn't she at least been home when Vernon Dursley attacked? And when she got home, why hadn't she read the manuscript and responded to him, at least done him the courtesy of breaking it off in person?

He had gone as far, once Alf's magic had been restored, of contacting the Salem Ministry of Magic. He'd asked them to confirm that she was okay, that nothing tragic had happened. The response had been brief…his neighbor, Michelle Fabry, was alive and well and still living in the house wedged between his old place, and the one now occupied by Dudley Dursley.

He could then have arranged a visit. There was no threat to Alf any longer, and clearly Dudley was not going to be an issue. But something had stuck in his craw about that…she was the one who'd blown him off, after all, why should he go crawling back?

"Oi there…" George heard Ron coming and quickly shut the door. "You want to come over for dinner tonight, George?"

He looked up at his brother with an affectionate smile. "That's the fourth dinner invite I've had for this evening…funny thing, a year and a half ago, nobody thought I could live with a child, now you all seem to think I can't live without him."

"Hey, don't be lumping me in that group…I was one of the first to stand up for you, you one-eared clown." Ron mocked anger. "So…where _are _you dining this evening."

George held his breath, and then admitted the truth. "Bill's house."

"Ah." Ron leaned against the wall. "Another well meaning attempt by Fleur to get you married off?"

George forced a laugh. "Not this time." He remembered too well how active Fleur had been in that department since his return. "I haven't seen Bill's kids in a while…not since Alf and I first returned from Salem. I see the rest of you all pretty often, and besides…well, it's the biggest change from home."

"Gotcha." Ron looked at where George's hand was resting on the desk drawer. "Look, George…if you ever, want to…you know…talk about anything..."

"What, Ron…" George asked, meticulously, "Would I have to talk about?"

They stared at each other, and Ron backed down. "Right. Well, we'll see you tomorrow, George. Say Hi to the kids for me."

George watched his brother…his only _younger_ brother…go. He knew Ron wanted him to talk about Michelle; Ron had tried a thousand times to get him to speak. He was actually worse than Alf in that regard; of course, George still was able to intimidate Alf, whereas Ron could just play obtuse when he glared at him.

Still, how in God's green earth did he talk to his little brother about his love life? And what exactly was Ron going to say to him, anyway? Ron had exactly one girlfriend before Hermione, if you could call Lavender Brown a girlfriend. And once he and Hermione had begun, they'd never looked back. No, Ron wasn't going to be any kind of help to him whatsoever.

Bill, though…Bill had dated a bit before Fleur. Bill, possibly, might be able to give him some helpful advice. Charlie would have been even better, but his playboy brother had gone on back to Romania. He would lay out his problems to Bill, and Bill would be sensible about the whole thing. First and foremost…should he try contacting her? He sure as heck couldn't stop thinking about her. Maybe, maybe he should cave in and try.

Bill would know. Bill _always_ knew. Or at least, George smirked to himself, he thought he did.


	2. Ch 2 The Sorting

Author's note: Thanks to everyone for reading. Note that during this section, there is a dialog between Alf and the sorting hat...in an attempt to avoid confusion, the hat's commentary is in bold face. Enjoy!

WWWWWWW

George walked the grounds outside of Shell Cottage contentedly, his hands deep in his pockets and his head deep in thought. This particular walk, by the cliffs overlooking the sea, was particularly soothing to him, and he paused. The sun was just setting, and it was magnificent, seaming to reach out to him and embrace him. He remembered a time when he had stood on these cliffs and cursed that sun, a time after his suicide attempt and before Ron's dragging him back to the world. Now, taking a deep breath, he felt nothing but peace. Alf was away, but not gone; he had something to live for now, and a future ahead of him. It wouldn't be perfect; wouldn't life be boring if it was? But it was a future non-the-less, and he basked in that sun for a moment.

"You going to come in, or just stand here and admire the view?" Bill joked, having come up on him suddenly.

George half laughed. He heard the tease in his oldest brother's voice, but he heard the concern as well; Bill took his responsibility as the oldest quite seriously and George knew that during those days of recovery eleven years ago, Bill had been beside himself with worry every time George had wandered from sight. "I wanted to make sure Fleur didn't have any distant cousins dining with us before I came in." He responded, smiling at his brother.

Bill relaxed immediately, the concern he'd been trying unsuccessfully to hide easing out of him. "Not when I left, she hadn't; though I wouldn't put it past her to scrounge somebody up within the past five minutes." The two brothers stood together side by side for a moment; George not needing to speak, and Bill seeming to want to, but for once unsure of his words.

"George…I am sorry you know…about what I said to you about Alf when you first came back. I behaved…well…I was…anyway, I don't want you to be angry about it still." Bill stuttered out.

George turned to him, truly stunned. "Good lord, Bill, you didn't think I was still angry with you, did you? You apologized once…as much as you're capable of, anyway; the words 'I was wrong' aren't normally in your vocabulary…understandable, since you usually aren't."

Bill exhaled hard, grinning at that description. "I know I've never been good at admitting when I screw up, George…but I still wouldn't blame you for being pissed at me. That's twice in the past year and a half I've totally blown it."

"Bill…if one of us stayed angry at the other every time somebody in this family did something stupid, we'd have all stopped talking to each other years ago." George pointed out, sensibly. "Thank God Alf somehow managed to miss the speak-first-think-later gene." Clearing his throat, George continued on, in a bit of a rush. "Actually, Bill, I kind of wanted to ask your advice on something."

Bill glowed. George knew his oldest brother lived for this, for the fact that his siblings turned to him often for help with things. That was something he _could_ see in his son; Alf had big brother syndrome through his blood as strong as his red hair. It was why he knew that if he ever did actually have more children, that despite the kid's worries, Alf would be right as rain with it in the end.

With the thought of potential more-children, George rattled off his tale, the story of his falling in love with a muggle woman. Bill would have heard pieces of it, he knew, but it would have been third party, from Charlie and from his father, and perhaps a bit from Hermione. But that wasn't the same as hearing it from George, and to Bill, George could admit the worries and fears that he'd otherwise have buried deep.

Bill listened attentively, his eyes never leaving George's face, and at one point steadying his younger brother with a hand on his shoulder. Once George had finished, Bill nodded once. "So it ended…and what is it you're asking me now?"

"Do I go back?" George set his shoulders and turned to him. "I still love her, Bill, and I'm having a hard time thinking I'm ever going to love anybody else. A part of me thinks I should just forget about it, that if she'd wanted to find me she would have, and that she's the one who abandoned me. But another part of me feels like I'm giving up way too easy…that what we had is worth fighting for."

"Right." Bill was thoughtful. "I can see how much you loved her, George…but…" Bill chose his words carefully. "Maybe what she's done is the right thing, George. You fell in love with each other under false pretenses, in a way. She was in love with the man you were pretending to be." George felt a little loss as Bill continued. "You're not George Weatherby…you never were. And you're not a muggle. Look, I believe totally in living in peace with muggles…but can you think of one muggle-magical marriage that's been _happy_?"

George came up short at that. Bill had a point. His friend Lee Jordan had come from a mixed marriage, and Lee's parents had divorced when he was fourteen. The strain of Lee's Dad living with the Voldemort return had been too much. Going back a ways, there was of course Professor Snape's sad family situation…and hell, one might as well consider Tom Riddle's parents as well. "The Tonks?" George tried.

Bill shook his head. "Ted Tonks was muggle born, but he was as much a wizard as Hermione is a witch." The older man shrugged. "Dad would disagree with me, no doubt, but look…how hard would it be for someone who wasn't magic to live in our world? No electricity, none of the comforts and ways of life they understand…it's too much to ask. I'm glad, George, that you discovered you _can_ fall in love; but this wasn't the right woman, and wasn't the right time."

George sighed. Bill had just, quite neatly, repeated everything that he'd been saying to himself since he and Alf had returned, during his moments of rational thought. And the remaining thought came to him…perhaps Michelle had read the manuscript, had actually found the way to contact him…and with her usual pragmatism, had realized everything that Bill had said, and found a way to cut her losses? What other reason could there be for her not contacting him? "Thanks, Bill. It's not the answer I wanted, I suppose…but I think it is the right one." He admitted, glumly.

Bill squeezed his shoulder. "Do you remember Hyacinth Parkinson?" George blinked at him. "Maybe you were a tad young…she was Pansy's oldest sister. I fell in love with her hard third year; we used to chase each other around the grounds on our brooms after Quidditch practice. I thought we were destined for each other, that we would be the pair to reunite Slytherin and Gryffindor, some sort of romantic show of house unity." Bill's laugh sounded harsh.

"What happened?" George cast his mind back to his younger days, but all he could recall was Bill with a whole string of girlfriends before Fleur, none that stood out.

"Fourth year happened. I guess her parents got to her, and anyway, they had her betrothed to one of their own kind, just like Pansy was always betrothed to Malfoy. Broke my heart, but it was all for a reason, you know." Bill kicked at the path aimlessly.

"I'm not fourteen, Bill." George pointed out sensibly. "And this wasn't a schoolyard crush."

Bill nudged George towards the house. "That makes it more difficult, but not necessarily different, George." They started up the path, George thinking more deeply than ever. "Come on, now…I know Fleur's relatives aren't proving your cup of tea…we'll get you out and dating again, and find you a proper witch to settle down with."

"I am afraid, Bill, that you and I would have very different ideas on what constitutes a proper witch!" George forced a joke, even though it seemed a part of his dream was dying. He forced himself to turn to happier thoughts, though ones that had their own pang. "I wonder how Alf is doing?"

"Another Weasley at Hogwarts!" Bill brightened up himself. "And Gryffindor house will never be the same!"

WWWWWWW

Alf and Teddy, and their new friend Eileen, were huddled together with a nervous group of first years in the great hall, as the sorting began. So far Hogwarts had surpassed his own expectations, which was saying something indeed! But after all, so much of his life he had believed this to be a marvelous fairy tale, and though he'd had a year and a half to get used to the fact that it was all _real_, somehow being at Hogwarts renewed that sense of awe he'd had the first day he'd wandered into his Dad's store.

They had been lead in by a very severe witch…a beautiful woman, tall, dark and proud...who'd been introduced as Professor Morgaine. She taught potions and was now head of Gryffindor house. Alf thought that she'd actually glared at him, and he wondered what on earth he could have done wrong already? Not a good way to start with his future head of house, but he could hardly think of any way in which he'd misbehaved.

The sorting started, but Alf was busy looking about him, at the enchanted ceiling, at the variety of kids at the tables, at the moving stairwells and maneuvering ghosts. Then, something that was like a ghost, but not quite…passed overhead with mocking words, only to come up short on Alf.

"Bless my soul…if I had one" The creature turned, and saluted him. "Son of one of the great ones…I have something to live for…or die for…after all!" With a whoop the creature swirled around Professor Morgainne, knotting her robes around her ankles. She shot a jet out from her wand at Peeves the Poltergeist (or at least that's who Alf assumed he was) and the apparition cackled and zipped away. She glared once more at Alfred. "Did you set Peeves on me, Mr. Weasley?" Her words were clipped.

Alf paled. "No…no ma'am…I wouldn't.!" He stuttered out.

She scowled down at him. "Watch yourself, young man… or you'll be the first student to have detention before they have a house to lose points from." She turned away from him, and Alf swallowed the indignation he felt at the accusation.

Teddy nudged him. "Looks like I'm not the only one whose father's reputation precedes him." He quipped. Alf gave him a grim smile in agreement, but Eileen tugged at his sleeve. "Never mind her…look!"

They turned back towards the sorting; the kid from their compartment, the rude one, was answering to the called name: "Diggory…CJ!" And he came forward.

"Interesting…wasn't his brother killed at the tri-wizard tournament when Voldemort went after your Uncle?" Alf asked Teddy. A few other first years looked at them in horror at hearing the name spoken. But Harry never referred to Voldemort as anything else, except on occasion Tom, so Teddy never feared the name; and for Alf, Tom Riddle had never been more than a boogie man.

The hat seemed to be pondering, arguing with itself, as it rested on CJ's head. The boy looked frightened, as if he were afraid of being rejected. Alf had heard both his Dad's stories and his Uncle Harry's stories about Cedric Diggory, and how as a young man he'd been everything that was best about Hufflepuff house…but boy, that sure didn't square with the way this kid had acted on the train! Sure enough…

"Slytherin!" The hat finally yelled. The boy was serious and quiet; he removed the hat, gently placed it on the chair, and walked with no emotion to the table with green and silver decorations.

"That's hardly surprising." Teddy said, arms crossed. "He's got Slytherin social skills well enough."

Eileen looked at him primly. "My cousin Severus was a Slytherin!" She reminded him.

Teddy backed down from nobody. "Yeah, and he _was_ a hero, but from what I've heard social skills weren't his strong point either…" The pair of them broke into a brief squabble under their breaths for a few moments…both of them looking like they enjoyed it.

"Stop it, you two." Alf nudged Teddy. "That's Sally Kepler…you must be soon."

Two students later, "Lupin, Theodore," rang through the hall, and Teddy stepped forward. The hat didn't seem to rest on his head for two seconds before bellowing "GRYFFINDOR!"

Alf whooped out loud at Teddy's relief, as his friend sprinted over towards the red and gold adorned table. He momentarily caught the headmistresses eye, and she nodded at him, a knowing smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. He liked her immediately.

The minutes seemed to fly, and yet time stood still. Alf loved being a Weasley, but he wished more than anything that his last name didn't start with a "W"! Surely it seemed the hat would never get to him.

He heard Eileen's name called, and saw her walk confidently up to the stool, putting the hat on. The hat seemed to be making faces, thinking, pondering, and then…

"HUFFLEPUFF."

Dang it…still, it wasn't so bad. It wasn't like he couldn't have friends in other houses, right? And he and Teddy would be her friend; it already seemed destined. Perhaps thinking the same thing, she smiled over to Alf with a shrug, waved to Teddy, and then skipped over to her new table, which was greeting her excitedly.

Thinking over their conversation on the train, and remembering how she'd reacted to Teddy's perceived slight of Slytherin (and therefore her cousin), Alf thought perhaps the hat knew what it was doing…Eileen Prince had already seemed to him to be the representation of loyalty.

Three other students were left; then two. Finally, with just one other behind him, Professor McGonagall called out his name. "Weasley, Alfred."

His stomach was a bundle of happy nerves, though he made sure he kept his outside calm and poised. Gryffindor was about bravery, right? He looked over to the table he would be joining shortly; Teddy gave him a confident "thumbs up." Several other folks sitting with Gryffindor nudged each other knowingly; it was no secret how the Weasleys were usually sorted, even though none had been at Hogwarts since Aunt Ginny left.

Alf sat on the stool, and felt the battered old hat be placed on his head.

_**Aha! A Weasley, bless my brim! Been a long time since we've had one of you at the school…**_

Alf found himself thinking back an answer to the hat automatically.

_Ten Years since Aunt Ginny graduated._

_**True, true…exciting times, then, the first of a new generation…this will wake the place up, I'm sure…you will be about great deals of mischief, I have no doubt…**_

Alf protested.

_I'm not so sure about that…I'm really not a very mischievous sort of person. Certainly not like my Dads…_

_**Dads, eh? Fred's son then…and therefore George's…those two shared everything! Even detentions! Now you, young man, perhaps are not quite so high spirited, which will relieve Minerva no doubt…you are, however, a very loyal young man…make friends easy, eh?**_

_I try._

_**You were in Teddy Lupin's thoughts…not everyone would befriend a werewolf's child, but you have done so, it seems…**_

_It's a moronic prejudice. Everyone knows being a werewolf can only be caused by being bitten by one, not by birth. I would hope I'm not that stupid._

_**No, no, not stupid at all. Now, that nice young Prince girl, she was thinking about you too…about how kind you were to her on the train, you and Mr. Lupin. She was very lonely and very nervous, and you made her feel at home.**_

Alf blushed. _I've been in her place, before. _

_**Of course, of course. Too bad you won't be able to be friends with her anymore, unless I sort you into Hufflepuff.**_

Alf felt his cheeks grow red. _Nonsense. Where does it say you can't have friends in other houses? I can be friends with any I choose. It's a foolish person indeed who would choose to associate with somebody merely based on the whim of a…a…thrift store reject hat!_

Far from offending the battered old thing, it seemed Alf amused it. _**I stand corrected, Mr. Weasley. Tell me, would you include Slytherins among your friends? Would you, perhaps, become friends with CJ Diggory? There's a test of how strong you really are.**_

_Of course I'd be his friend…if he wanted to, which it doesn't seem like he does. He doesn't even like me._

_**Oh, he likes you fine…he just doesn't know how to be a friend. He's going to need one, though…everyone does, even unhappy Slytherins with bad social skills.**_

Beyond the crowd, Hagrid had just entered, having quartered the thestrals. He looked at the scene, now going on for some four minutes, and turned to the headmistress in confusion. "I don't rightly understand, Professor. He's a Weasley…we all KNOW what house he's going in to?"

Minerva McGonagall looked puzzled. "I may be wrong, Hagrid…but it looks like the hat's having a good time testing Mr. Weasley…like it's being challenged.

Meanwhile, the hat seemed to squish down harder on Alf's head, trying to read him to the bone.

_**So, then, cunning you are when necessary, Alfred Weasley, I can see that…and loyal you are…you would die for your family, for your friends, like your father before you…and brave you are, for you have stood up strong to others. Yes, you intrigue me young man…you do indeed. I have not had so much fun with a student since Neville Longbottom…many mocked me for that, but I knew he was a Gryffindor, through and through!**_

_Well, if you're so smart, why don't you put me where I belong? Everyone is growing tired of waiting!_

_**Oh…but I'm not the smart one, young man…you are! Smart enough to know when to be cunning, smart enough to know when to be brave, smart enough to know when to be loyal…and smart enough to see through the nonsense that being assigned to a house should mean you don't talk to any others! Smart enough to be…**_

"RAVENCLAW!" Shouted the hat.

There was a stunned gasp in the hall. Several Gryffindors, with their hands raised together to enthusiastically clap for their new member, froze in mid-motion. Alf gaped outright; surely he had heard that wrong? Just out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hagrid help professor McGonagall into a chair, she was so stunned.

From somewhere Alf heard a whoop of joy, and a tiny professor jumped up on to the Ravenclaw table and began to do a dance that was half jig, half tap dance routine. That, Alf supposed, must be Professor Flitwick.

"I got one! I got a Weasley! Ha, I knew it! I told you, Minerva…told you I'd get one, one of these days! Ha ha!"

_Well, at least somebody is happy about this._

Alf had taken the hat off rather sheepishly, and with a hollow feeling he shuffled over to his new table, giving Teddy a rather half-hearted smile and a little wave as he did so. Poor Teddy looked like he was about to fall right off his chair. The Gryffindor table was all abuzz as he walked past them. Professor Morgainne gave him an unfathomable glare.

The Ravenclaw table, perhaps sensing Alf's own ambivalence, wasn't exactly leaping up to greet him. Feeling truly unsure of himself for the first time that day, he more or less slunk down into a chair, managing a smile for Flitwick when the small wizard enthusiastically slapped him on the back, but otherwise in a state of shock. Somehow he felt a failure and a disgrace, and he had no idea how to undo this mess!

"What, we're not good enough for you?" A boy across from him sneered. Alf winced, but before he could even try to explain, a much older boy…fifth year at least…with dark skin and a wide smile, and a prefect's badge, reached over to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, Weasley. Pay no mind to Winters, here…second years think they know everything. I'm Darius MacGreggor, prefect and captain of the Quidditch team."

Alf managed a real smile then, in relief to know he hadn't managed to offend his new house entirely. Darius motioned to him to start filling his plate, as the food began to appear.

"Bit of a shock to you…" The older boy continued. "I know how you feel…my mum came from a long line of Gryffindors herself…I think her brother was one of your dad's mates, by the way…Lee Jordan his name is."

"Of course!" Alf felt a little better already. "Dad talks about him often…he's in Australia now, isn't he?"

"Yep…Uncle Lee got a great gig announcing their Quidditch league." Darius introduced the other first year boys, who were quickly forgetting Alf's rather inauspicious start to his life as a Ravenclaw. There were four others: Clark Louis, Jack Mina, Harlan Browne and Eric Wong. Alf tried to focus, and watch what was going on, but that was near impossible…the food, though he knew it was good, tasted like sawdust, the other boys, though they seemed nice enough, were little more than background. He was aware of the Headmistress, having recovered from the shock a tad faster, discussing rules and introducing Professor Morgainne, head of Gryffindor and new potions master, and all he could keep thinking about was what was he going to tell his dad?

Matt Winters took that precise moment to manage to overturn a gravy boat, creating some commotion and causing Alf to miss the rest of the Headmistress' announcements …something about another new professor, Muggle Studies, or was it Elemental Healing? Anyway, whoever it was hadn't arrived yet, a few last minute travel problems having popped up.

Darius got them all to stand up, gathering the group of chatty first years' around him. "We're off to the dorms now…let's see which one of you is the most Ravenclaw, eh?" He teased, steering them towards their common room. Alf managed a forelorn wave at Teddy as they crossed each other in the hallway.

Darius was walking beside Alf, and must have sensed his sadness returning. "So, you play Quidditch, Alf? Your Dad did, I know."

"And my mum…she was a chaser. I was mostly muggle raised, though, so Quidditch is still new to me. I was a good goalie on the football team, so I was thinking I'd like to go out for keeper…although I know first years don't often make it." He added, not wanting to appear like he was begging or anything.

"They don't, but I've got a plan this year to line up some reserves. Other than me, the entire team is seventh years, and unless I want to see the house flattened next year, I need to start preparing for our future. Come on to tryouts next weekend…can't hurt, right?" Darius squeezed his shoulder in encouragement. "Ah, here we go. Ladies and Gentlemen, we in Ravenclaw pride ourselves on our wit…no passwords for us. To enter, you must merely answer a question…" Darius knocked on the door.

The knocker, in the shape of an Eagle, spoke in a calm, lyrical voice. "I am heavier going forward, and backward I am not…what am I?"

Ten confused first years stared at the door, while Darius smirked. "I never said they'd be easy questions. Come on, now…who's got it?"

A series of groans came from beyond. "I'm too tired to think!" Somebody grumbled. "Heavier forwards than backwards? There isn't anything!" Another complained. "Not a fair question."

Alf was frowning with thought, picturing the question in his mind. This was Ravenclaw …the answer obviously wasn't supposed to be an easy factoid, but instead a test of, well, _logic, _right? He kept harping on the exact wording…_backward I am not. Not. Not._ Alf looked over to Darius.

"Is it a TON?" He asked.

The door swung open.

Darius clapped Alf on the shoulder hard, as moans of disbelief followed him. "Well done. That hat knew what it was about, I see…" Alf blushed, as Darius explained to those who hadn't figured it out: "The word TON means two thousand pounds, which is certainly heavy…and backward, it's N-O-T. Come now…boys on the left, girls on the right…you're on the third landing up. Bed, now: tomorrow you'll be getting your schedules and the fun really begins!"

Alf stayed a step or two behind, to speak to Darius. "Um…can I ask a question?" Darius raised an eyebrow, and Alf sighed. "Oops, right, I just did…anyway, you don't happen to have an owl I can borrow, do you? I wanted to send a quick note to my Dad."

He got a wide smile in answer. "G'on upstairs, and I'll bring Fleetwood by for you."

Alf hurried to catch up with his mates, and was surprised that everyone seemed pretty friendly to him, after his strange start. His bed had already been chosen for him, by Rufus, who had escaped from the carrier and immediately curled up in the middle of the one nearest the window. The other boys didn't seem to mind.

He was ready for Darius' owl when the young man brought it to him. His note had taken no time at all to write. Indeed, it consisted of only two words.

RAVENCLAW.

SORRY.

WWWWWWW

George leaned back from the table at The Burrow, full of Molly's lamb stew, and privately thinking it could have used a healthy shot of cumin but far to smart to tell her that. Bill, Harry, Ron, Percy and his Dad were all there as well; Molly had insisted that everyone come home for lunch today. George knew full well it was his Mum's attempt to make sure he didn't start pining away, or however one might put it. He was fond of them all to not be exasperated by it…yet.

Really, one would think he hadn't spent an entire year in America handling himself pretty damned well!

Arthur was talking about work, in a general matter. "Very strange having Amos Diggory back, I can tell you. Sometimes he seems like his old self, but it's odd…he's got this funny look about him. Can't imagine how that young boy of his has been growing up…"

Ron was, as always, eating at a breakneck pace. "Mione told me she met his boy…CJ, I think his name is. Seems he managed to show her and Malfoy up pretty good while they were working on Alf's potion. He's at Hogwarts with Alf, now, right?"

Everyone else at the table rushed into conversation on other topics, and George rolled his eyes.

"People, PLEASE." He interrupted. "I am not likely to have forgotten I have a son, at Hogwarts, in a mere twenty-four hours, and you don't have to walk on egg-shells around me. I am not going barmy over it…and thank you, Ron, for at least having sense enough not to act as if I were…" He smiled with resignation, to show he wasn't so much angry, as exasperated.

"Right." Arthur looked a little sheepish. "Any word from him, then?"

"No, and I hope there isn't for a good week, Dad. I want him to be rushing headlong into everything he can get into, and loving it. He can pen me a lengthy tome when he has a story to tell me." George grinned, picturing Alf and Teddy roaming over the grounds, looking for those old secret passages…and had just a twinge of nerves that his son might be successful finding one!

"Maybe he'll send YOU a toilet seat!" Molly quipped, getting everyone to laugh.

George folded his arms in protest. "You know, by the time I have grandchildren, they are going to really believe Fred and I sent eight of them, and here we never even sent just one!"

"Probably not for lack of trying." Harry joked, and George just shook his head.

There was a flustered tap at the window…George looked up to see a rather frustrated Owl pecking insistently.

"Oh, hell…" He rose and opened the window…sure enough, it was his name, and the return address was Hogwarts. He gave the owl a treat…poor thing must have been hunting him out at three different places…and began to break the seal.

"He can't possibly be in trouble ALREADY." Percy said, eyebrows raised. "That would surpass even you."

George threw him a glare, as he unfolded the paper. "More likely he's got himself worried _about_ me…rather like a lot of others I know." He looked down, and read the words his son had penned.

The rest of the family watched, as a full minute ticked by. George re-read the two words over and over, his brow furrowed in confusion. He reached over for the counter-top, so he might have something to lean on, as he continued to study.

"Long letter?" Bill broke the tension.

"Two words." George contradicted. Then, going to the floo, he tossed in a bit of powder and shouted as a fire-call. "Headmistress McGonagall!"

His old professor's face showed in the embers. "Mr. Weasley…all of the Mr. Weasleys, and Mr. Potter as well…and Molly. How charming to hear from you."

"Right, Professor." George started. "I'm guessing you might know why I'm chatting?"

"I think I might…but do tell me in your own words, if you would be so kind." She replied.

"I have a rather confusing letter from my son, and I want to make sure I understand it. Am I correct that my son…MY son…has sorted into RAVENCLAW?"

The rest of the family exclaimed behind him. He ignored it.

Professor McGonagall's eyes twinkled and her lips twitched. "Would have turned my hair white with shock, if I wasn't half there already. Filius is just about beside himself, he's so giddy with joy. And, I am told, the boy was first to decipher the password riddle…that hat knows its stuff, Mr. Weasley. I trust you're not to disappointed."

George balked. "Lord, no! Surprised, hell yes, but not disappointed."

"Glad to hear it. He seems a most charming young man, but then you and your brother weren't necessarily remiss in that regard, when you weren't trying to blow something up. Now if you'll excuse me…"

The Headmistress signed off, and George turned back to his quiet, anxious family.

"Ravenclaw?" Bill and Ron mouthed together. "Hell, even Percy didn't make Ravenclaw!"

"I've always maintained that was so I could keep Fred and George in line." Percy pointed out.

"As if!" George scoffed.

Harry just shook his head. "Well, we all knew he was smart, George…"

Suddenly, Molly burst in to tears. They all turned to her, but were relieved to see her smiling, albeit a wet smile.

"I always…always hoped…one of you boys would get into Ravenclaw. Aunt Muriel was in Ravenclaw…she used to say I was too dumb…and you boys wouldn't ever amount to anything…" Molly wiped her eyes. "And now Alf…little Alf…"

"Lord, now I am worried, if he starts acting like Aunt Muriel." George touched his mom's shoulder. "Which he won't…now what, Mum…"

Molly had dashed into the kitchen. From a deceptively small drawer she pulled a giant bag, her work bag. "Oh, I don't have any blue YARN!" She moaned. "I am going to have to start his Christmas sweater from SCRATCH!"

Everyone laughed then, although George kept his eyes returning to that note. To the SECOND word on that note. Excusing himself from the family for a moment, he found a quiet room, and wrote out an answer.

"Alfred.

Do not ever be sorry about anything that you are. I never will be.

Love, Dad.

PS…thanks for making the rest of us look bad to your Grandmother. Apparently she'd been hoping for one of us to have brains for quite some time. Now there's no shutting her up about it!

Kidding. Love you. Oh, and beat the crap out of the Slytherin Quidditch team, will you?"


	3. Ch 3 A Very Bad Day

Alf got the note from George over dinner that evening, his first day of classes. It was about the only good thing that had happened to him that day, and he privately thought that he could aparate home he would hug his father hard and quite possibly never let him go.

It had started out innocently enough...

Alf got up early, excited despite that little niggling worry about being the only Weasley in history not to sort into Gryffindor. And in fact, he did feel a twinge when he sat down to breakfast apart from Teddy. But as soon as his schedule was handed to him he felt a total rush of excitement not to be believed.

He had three classes scheduled for Monday: History of Magic, from 8:15am to 10am; Charms, from 10:15 to 1pm, a break for lunch, and then Potions from 2:15P to 4P. It was the same schedule on Wednesdays. Tuesdays and Thursdays saw him with Muggle Studies from 8:15 to 10 (a mandatory class for all first thru third years), then Arithmancy (he'd heard enough from his Dad know he wanted no part of Divination), and Herbology. Fridays he had Double Transfiguration from 8:15 thru to lunch, followed by Care of Magical Creatures.

The only downside to his schedule he noted after he, and his fellow first years, had noted one particular peculiarity with the schedule Monday through Thursdays. "All of our classes are shared with Slytherin!" He exclaimed, chagrinned. He'd hoped to at least see Teddy in some of his classes; and Eileen Prince, as well. But only his Friday classes featured all four houses together.

"Ah." Darius leaned over to look at his schedule. "Right, see, historically Slytherins and Gryffindors are oil in water, as I'm sure _you_ have heard." He rubbed Alf's head vigorously. "And now, you can't put the Hufflepuffs with the Slytherins…they'd be totally taken advantage of. So it's fallen to our humble house to partner with them…it's expected that we'd be too smart to be goaded into reaction by the snakes…or abused by them." He patted Alf's shoulder. "It'll be fine…I have no doubt you'll be able to hold your own."

_Right. _Alf looked over the four other boys in his year, in his house. Nice enough, the lot of them, but they were all raised from birth as Wizards, not even the luck of a muggle-born among them. Clark, Jack, Harlan and Eric were beyond him in technical skills, no matter how much he'd tried to cram with his Dad over the summer. And worse, the four of them seemed to have known each other, or at least known OF each other, for some time.

The problem with this became apparent immediately when he hit history of magic, still taught by t he ghostly Professor Binns. History was taught in an old fashioned classroom, featuring double-seating desks. Clark and Jack immediately sat together, and Harlan and Eric sat behind them. With a blush, Alf had made to sit with the odd Ravenclaw girl (there were a total of ten first year Ravenclaws), a young lady by the name of Taylor Conlogue. Taylor had was nice enough, although rather giggly and not anything as sensible, well, as Eileen Prince had seemed. But it turned out Professor Binns had other ideas.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I do not approve of this modern fad of mixing genders at desks…please, rearrange yourself appropriately." He'd droned.

So Taylor had to go sit with the odd-out Slytherin girl, and Alf was joined by, of all people, CJ Diggory.

Alf forced himself to smile at him, remembering the Sorting Hat's taunts. CJ blushed slightly, and turned away to look at the chalk board. Alf just sighed.

The class itself? Well, he had been warned. Even Aunt Hermione, the biggest bookworm the family had known, couldn't find a single good thing to say about this class. His Dad had, in a way, waxed rhapsodic. "Fred and I always had our best ideas in History of Magic. Binns' voice was the perfect white noise for creative work."

Once or twice Alf had looked over towards CJ. His seat-mate was staring intently at Binns, as if he were actually paying attention, and taking copius notes. Other students seemed to invariably be looking out the windows, at their watches, doodling on their notepads, passing notes right under the professor's nose…Harlan and Eric were playing hang-man. Not knowing what to do, but painfully aware that he was supposed to be _smart, _Alf caved in and joined CJ in taking notes, though he hoped he was more succinct…really CJ was writing a small novel!

It was with relief that he rose and escaped the Slytherin boy to join the others, and to walk through the gnarled hallways to Charms. "Flitwick has to be better than that." Clark muttered. "I mean, why waste our time with that stuff?"

"Painful." Alf offered, hoping to make some headway with the group. "Charms should be fun, though."

And it might have been, for everyone else. They sat at groups in the long tables, and he was relieved to see Diggory over by the other Slytherins. Alf settled in next to Eric and joked with him about their preposterous feather's they'd been handed…his was flamingo; Eric had a pheasant. Then Professor Flitwick came in.

"Alfred Weasley!" He squeaked, making Alf look up and wonder if he'd managed to do something wrong. But no; the little wizard was positively alight with joy. "Your father…the Weasley twins I mean…they were the best two students I ever had!" He rubbed his hands together joyously. "Nobody else understood the vital importance of charms, of just how much you could do with them…they're not just a matter of levitating a feather or making things look pretty."

The Professor now started pacing gleefully across his desk, and spent the next ten minutes…TEN MINUTES…poetically describing how Fred and George Weasley were brilliant at charms, how there wasn't one they couldn't master, how in fact charms had built their entire empire, now the most popular novelty name in Britain, if not the world. But it all started with Fred and George, and in particular with what they learned here…

He kept going on, and Alf wanted to sink into the floor. Because Flitwick was so carried away with his praises that the other students were starting to snicker under their breath. Eric cast him a sideways glance, with a raised eyebrow, and smirked. Somehow, Alf felt that Flitwick had just painted a huge target on his back.

Worse, as proud as he was of his Dad, he sure as heck wasn't as talented as the man. And here Flitwick seemed to think he'd be able to create entire swamps from rancid tea! Now, how was he, a first year with maybe two months of magic behind him, supposed to compete with the Weasley Twins, in their sixth year and with SEVENTEEN YEARS of "mischief managed"??????

By the time they'd gotten to "swish and flick" movements, Alf was beet red. And Diggory, for some reason, seemed to be staring daggers into his back. Listlessly he poked at the Flamingo Feather.

"Wingardium Levio-SA!" He tried. The feather rolled over, but nothing else. Alf was too put out to realize that was in fact more than any of his class mates had done; he was humiliated. "Wingardium LeviOHsa!" He tried. The feather smoked slightly, then puffed out.

Beyond him, CJ Diggory drawled out slowly, "Wingardium Leviosah." And the feather rose.

"Oh…Mr. Diggory…well done, well done indeed!" Flitwick clapped, apparently able to appreciate a student's talents regardless of house. "Five points to Slytherin for being the first to master a charm."

CJ looked startled at the compliment, and then nearly smiled. "Careful, his face might crack." Alf muttered to Eric, who snickered in approval. Flitwick hadn't heard the comment, but CJ had, and his face immediately went stony blank again. Which made Alf feel terrible; wasn't he supposed to be smarter than to be snarky like that?

Frustrated, he swished-and-flicked with all his might. "Wingardium LevioSAH!" He tried, thinking with all his might about that damned feather getting airborn!

The pink feather shot upwards like a dart, and imbedded itself two inches deep in the ceiling. The entire classroom laughed, and Alf wanted to die.

But Flitwick was laughing as well. "Powerful, Mr. Weasley, powerful…you have George's temper, I see…well, you'll get there, young man…you will indeed. Now, class, let's work on that wrist movement…"

After lunch, Alf in fact was able to hunt down Teddy…the two of them took a quick stroll out on the grounds. It was a gloriously sunny day, and they found a spot under a tree they could sprawl under. Teddy patiently listened to his list of grievences.

"…really, I'm not sure what Flitwick expects of me, Teddy. Heck, I still think the sorting hat made some gross error…I'm not all that smart."

"Right." Teddy grinned at him. "One of two students to get your feather to levitate on the fist day of classes, and the only one to decipher your dorm password. Clearly a dolt."

Alf decided to change the subject. "What about your classes so far."

Teddy shuddered. "Had potions this morning. I know Morgainne is head of Gryffindor and all, but honestly, she's just _impossible_. Scares the hell out of me, frankly." Teddy's face then got brighter. "Just had muggle studies, though…new professor, she just got in this morning, from what I understand, but she was cool…and kind of pretty…"

Alf was going to laugh at Teddy's blush and tease him further, when a voice called out to him. "Oi, Weasley…" It was Harlan. "Potions next…and the classroom's pretty far."

"He's right, you better get going." Teddy nudged him. "She _shredded_ some poor Hufflepuff for being late."

"Right. See you round about dinner time, then." Alf sighed dramatically, and headed off to join the Ravenclaw boys.

WWWWWWWW

Potions was the last straw.

Alf arrived five minutes early with Harlan, both of them breathless with the near run they had made. The potions classroom was in the dungeons, and was chill, even in September; Alf could imagine it must be freezing in the dead of winter. He gathered with the other Ravenclaws in a bunch, waiting for their professor to arrive.

She did, with out sound and seeming to almost glide in to her place behind the desk, so subtly one might almost have missed it. Until her voice broke in to their quiet murmurs. "Do not bother to take your seats, students." It was a quiet statement, one that somehow managed to send shivers up Alf's spine anyway. "I will be assigning you to a desk, and to a desk mate."

Her dark brown eyes scanned the group, now that she had their undivided attention. She paused at Alf's face, and he swore he saw anger rise for a moment, before flaming out. "When I call your name, you will begin populating the double desks, from the back...to the front. Eric Wong...Ariel Caraballo." She started.

One by one, she arranged pairs of students. Alf noted she seemed intent on keeping one Ravenclaw with one Slytherin, although not necessarily grouped by gender, as Binns had insisted on. Alf felt some trepidation as he remained uncalled. Pair by pair, the other students were arranged, until...

"Mr. Diggory, you will have the misfortune of sitting next to Mr. Weasley, right here in front where I can keep an eye on you." She looked down at them both with the smallest hint of a smile, but one that did not touch her eyes.

Alf swallowed hard, glancing once at CJ, who seemed as puzzled as he was. To his knowledge, he had not done anything wrong.

Class started immediately on their taking seats and words and ingredient names were flying fast. Alf barely had time to get quill and ink out before she rattled off a series of expectations, of information it seemed to him might be important, too important to toss off in a dismissive series of statements.

"...do not mince Root of HeyFig, as that causes it to explode...but you can only crush Madagascar Jumping Bean; any other treatment and it becomes caustic...and never mix the two together..."

Alf's head was spinning already, when he broke the tip of his quill. He leaned over to his bag to get another, when...

"MR. WEASLEY!" Morgainne's pointer whipped down on to the desk in front of him, causing he and CJ both to jump, and CJ's inkpot to be overturned. "What are you doing going in to your bag?"

Alf gulped. "I, uh, broke my quill."

"How tragic. Pity you didn't use those Ravenclaw brains of yours to think to keep an extra quill at the ready." She smirked down at him. "Mr. Diggory!" She snapped. CJ turned his unreadable expression up to her. "Have you an extra inkpot at the ready?"

"I have one in my bag.." He answered readily.

"Children..." She dismissed them. "I do not permit students to dig through their bags during class. I expect you to have all ingredients for the day's work, as outlined on the syllabus I will be passing out shortly. Any ingredients not at the ready will have to be done without. Sadly, that will include Mr. Diggory's inkpot, and Mr. Weasley's quill."

CJ's face burned, two dark spots of red coming up on his face, and Alf could understand why, since it had been Morgainne's actions that had caused him to lose his ink. Not that he felt that his strictures were fair, either, but at least he broke his own damned pen.

Then, adding icing to the cake, the Professor smiled almost sweetly. "Notes away, class. We are going to have a quiz on what I have just shown you." She spotted Alf's bulging eyes and the sweetness disappeared. "Have you a question, Mr. Weasley?"

Alf knew already that she intended to have him fail, and that there would be no point in asking to borrow a quill from someone else, so he did what he could. "Yes, ma'am. Can I lend my ink to Mr. Diggory?"

She seemed taken aback, as did CJ, who almost smiled at him. Until Morgainne recovered herself. "You may not. You, as partners, will suffer together the failure of each other. Now, class..."

Alf and CJ had no choice but to sit there, watching, while their class mates were handed a sheet of ten questions. They listened to the scratching of eighteen quills on parchment, while staring down at their folded hands on the table. It was while the test was being completed that the professor leaned over to Alf, saying in little more than a whisper.

"So compliant, Mr. Weasley?" She teased, that little malicious smirk coming back. "I am surprised... your father would not have taken such an injustice lightly. Fred must be spinning in his grave...of course, he never knew his bastard child, so maybe he doesn't care so much..."

Alf's face burned with anger and humiliation, though he knew none but CJ could hear her. CJ hearing it was bad enough; it probably meant that by the end of the day all of Slytherin would know her words as well. And how in the hell had she known his father.

She seemed to read his mind. "Oh, I knew Fred Weasley, once. You look like him, but you're just a pale copy at best, not unlike your drunken Uncle George."

"My Dad's not a drunk." Alf seethed back, though he kept his voice low. Part of him knew it was stupid, but how was he supposed to sit there and listen to this? This was his _Dad!_

Professor Morgainne became very still. "Your father is DEAD." Her voice rose, and the rest of the class paused; Alf could feel heads raising behind him. He felt CJ glance at him sideways.

"He was very much alive when I left him yesterday." Alf retorted.

"Your father is Fred Weasley. And I can assure you he is quite, quite dead." Professor Morgainne would not stoop to yelling full bore; but she made certain that her scorn and anger were felt in every word. Alf, at his heart, knew he should stop; but he couldn't, not over this.

"Fred Weasley was my father. George Weasley is my father now." Alf said, stoutly. "And I think I am in the best position to know."

For a second he thought she might strike him. CJ tensed next to him, also expecting the blow to fall. Instead, she backed away from him, her lips set in a thin line, but an eerie light shining in her eyes. "Detention, Mr. Weasley, tonight after dinner, right here, if you please. And fifty points from Ravenclaw."

Alf felt the air suck out of him. He didn't care about the detention, but the _points_! He was already on thin ice with his new housemates, given how he'd reacted to his sorting last evening. In fact, behind him, he heard several of the other boys groan out loud at his actions.

Morgainne wasn't done. "I don't tolerate LIARS, Mr. Weasley, not even smart Ravenclaw liars like yourself. Your Uncle is no honorable man if he encourages you to these delusions; you should be thankful that somebody like me is taking the time to correct you." She noticed, then, that CJ was staring at her carefully, studying her even as she studied him, and she had words for CJ as well.

"As for you, Mr. Diggory, you may have survived this day with no worse than a zero on a quiz, but I'm watching you. Your brother was an empty-headed pretty boy who masqueraded as a hero, and it cost him his life; I can see you are no better than he was. I am watching you, and if you're lucky Mr. Weasley here may always just be a little bit more stupid than you are." She raised her head. "Class dismissed."

Eighteen students rushed out quickly, several of the Ravenclaws glaring at Alf, who was sitting staring in to space at his desk, feeling sick. CJ's eyes were burning with anger himself, but Professor Morgainne wasn't there to see it; she had, on dismissing them, simply turned and glided away as quickly as she'd come.

CJ didn't speak at first. Then he reached down and handed Alf his bag. "You okay?" He asked.

Alf was too angry to be startled. "No. You?"

"Nope." CJ admitted, still looking frustrated. "Nasty bit of work she is."

"Miserable bi…" Alf came up short as CJ held up his hand; they looked at each other and seemed to understand: neither of them were putting the ability to hear when she wasn't present past her. And with understanding, Alf realized something: while CJ might not exactly be a friend, he was, most certainly, an ally. At least in the battle against their potions professor.

"We'd best get going." CJ said.

"Right." Alf rose, and together they headed towards a very somber dinner.

WWWWWWW

It took Alf about five minutes into dinner to realize his life wasn't getting better any time soon.

When he sat down, every single other first year moved down the table, at least four feet away from him. When he tried speaking to a second year, the other student turned his back on him flat. Listlessly Alf picked at his food; he heard the laughter at the Gryffindor table, looked across the room to see Eileen Prince giggling at the Hufflepuff paper, and thought about his Dad and having dinner with him, laughing about their days and helping him with the dishes while he sang out-of-tune mangled lyrics to whatever popular song might exist.

Alf folded his arms at the table, and put his head down, not caring who might laugh at him for it. He wished more than anything else that he could just simply disappear.

Darius came up beside him. He wasn't smiling, and though he looked as if he were sorry, he was nevertheless stern. "Weasley." He said, evenly. "It's gotten about that you cost the house fifty points. True?"

Alf just nodded; he didn't trust his voice to speak.

"Right. Then as prefect I need to tell you…when a Ravenclaw student costs more than twenty points, you become persona non grata for a week. Unwritten rule." He looked at Alf's blank face. "Sorry, kid…that means silent treatment. You won't be recognized by the house for the next seven days. Hopefully you'll learn from this." And with no other words, Darius walked back to the other end of the table, leaving a miserable Alf all alone.

Then the Owl found him. He was afraid at first that it might be a howler, although how his Dad would have found out he'd screwed up so quickly was surprising. Then he saw that the envelope was white, not red, and he took it and opened it.

"_Alfred._

_Do not ever be sorry about anything that you are. I never will be._

_Love, Dad._

_PS…thanks for making the rest of us look bad to your Grandmother. Apparently she'd been hoping for one of us to have brains for quite some time. Now there's no shutting her up about it!_

_Kidding. Love you. Oh, and beat the crap out of the Slytherin Quidditch team, will you?"_

Tears welled in his eyes even as he managed a smile. He'd forgotten about the note he'd sent off to his father last evening. Clearly George was perfectly fine with a Ravenclaw son. Oh, how he missed him! He had spent so much time worrying about George these past weeks that it had been easy to forget that the missing would be mutual. And of course, having the sort of crappy day he'd had today had never occurred to him. He wiped his eyes with his robes, and set his shoulders. Today was almost over, after all, and if he survived the week, he might just make it thought the year.

Teddy had come up to him, seeing Alf's distress. "You alright? We got a few minutes before we have to go to our common rooms." Teddy offered. Alf turned to see Eileen had come over as well. "I heard Morgainne got all over you today."

Great, did _everyone_ know. Alf sighed, looking from one to the other. "I have detention." He informed them. "And I cost my house fifty points, and none of them are speaking to me because of it." Both Eileen and Teddy were startled by that. "But I'll survive. See you both tomorrow morning."

Teddy puched his shoulder gently. "Hang in there, Alf. It's not like she's a crazed muggle with a shotgun, you've dealt with worse." Eileen just squeezed his arm in comisseration.

Well, at least he still had some friends.

WWWWWWW

"Mr. Weasley." Professor Morgainne was at her desk, but she didn't look up. "You will be writing lines. 200 if you please, of "I will not tell lies." The quill and paper are on the desk."

Alf said nothing, just sat down and picked up his quill. "Professor?" He asked, though he wished he could just say nothing. Still, he felt her look up at him, and he managed to meet her eye. "There isn't any ink."

She just smiled at him. "You won't be needing any."

He got two words into the sentence when he realized why, with a gasp. She was making him use a blood quill. Like the one that had carved a permanent scar into Uncle Harry's hand. Bloody hell, but it HURT! He got out the remaining words, tears pricking at his eyes, but no mark on his hand; this quill was carving its message into his shoulder.

"Do you have a comment, Mr. Weasley?" She asked, in voice as sweet as honey, and as honest as Pinocchio.

"No, Ma'am." He replied, softly. And without further words, bracing himself for the pain, he started the second line.

WWWWWWW

At breakfast the next morning, Alf avoided his table and headed right outside to the grounds. His shoulder felt like it was on fire; the scar was an angry, blood-crusted red and hot to the touch. The potions professor had not relented, and made him write out all 200 lines, though he had tears running down his face by the time he was done. Hell, she'd even made him redo three lines because she couldn't read them clearly.

He rather felt that blood quills were supposed to be illegal, but who the hell was he supposed to tell? His house wasn't speaking to him; he hadn't even seen Professor Flitwick since charms. Besides, it felt rather cowardly to whine about a punishment. After all, he _had _raised his voice to a professor, even though he figured he'd had a little bit of a right to.

In any event, he knew he didn't want to be around a whole table of mates that hated his guts. And it wasn't like sitting with Teddy or Eileen was an option. So slowly, he strolled on the grounds, and then finally turned to head to the tower where muggle studies would be held. At least this class was probably going to be a piece of cake for him. No real surprises there.

WWWWWWW

Michelle Fabry sat in her office, staring at a huge pile of papers she knew she was supposed to be going through. Stupid British ministry of magic and their red tape…now she was behind.

She wasn't sorry she'd applied for the job at Hogwarts. And although she'd been nervous about the interview, she and Minerva McGonagall had hit it off right away. She'd been offered a new position: now that Muggle Studies were required, they needed additional faculty, and they also wanted to create a class in Elementary Healing, for sixth and seventh year students who had received at least an "E" in their potions and charms OWLS. Michelle's skills couldn't have been any more tailor made for the job. She'd accepted the offer, and returned to America to put her affairs in order.

It was on arriving in England on Sunday that she was met by a Ministry official who seemed hell bent on determining that she was using entry to this country to foment another war. How this officious idiot could come to that conclusion was beyond her; her own family had been killed in a European Uprising of dark wizards, which is why she'd been raised by distant relatives in America..

Still, this dense moron…Diggory, the name was…had insisted that she might be taking a job that ought to be held by a British witch or wizard. In fact, she had been held up until late Sunday night, and had been saved only by the intervention of another ministry employee…a pleasant young man with glasses named Weasley, who very faintly reminded her of George.

_And what doesn't remind you of George, you idiot? He had red hair. You're imagining any other resemblance._

An envelope with an unread manuscript was resting not far away on top of a filing cabinet.

In front of here were the papers that were supposed to be INSIDE the filing cabinet. She'd always liked reading the dossiers on her students before she taught a class; she liked to have a handle on any potential issues or problems. But she hadn't had time to even get this pile from Minerva until after her last class yesterday; she'd spent dinner in her office reading up on her first day students, after the fact. And she'd been too damned tired to keep reading up for the second day students, so she's be a day behind again.

Speaking of, she could here them coming in…one of them at any rate, a few minutes early. Behind her, a door lead away into her quarters; in front of her, a door to her classroom. With a smile, she adjusted her robes, took up her wand, and set her shoulders, as always feeling the excitement of a new year, of new students. Given the subject matter, she felt she was prepared for anything.

And then she opened the door.


	4. Ch 4 A Better day?

Author's note: I made some changes in chapter 3 before submitting that didn't seem to take. One of those changes was pretty important going forward, so be advised that I had meant for Muggle Studies to be Alf's first class of the day on Tuesday.

Again, thanks all for reading. Enjoy!

WWWWWWW

Alf had slunk into the Muggle Studies room about ten minutes before class time. He was glad to see normal, single desks here; in fact, it looked refreshingly like a muggle classroom, which was not surprising, come to think of it. He took a seat far to the back, and folded himself down on top of his books. He was tired; his burning scar had made it hard to sleep last night, and the thing seemed to be getting worse, not better.

He looked around him. There was a muggle map of the UK, a large chart indicating basic currency conversion from Galleon to Euro, posters of the muggle prime minister and other world dignitaries; even a few sports stars. He smiled, feeling more comfortable than home sick; this classroom reminded him very much of Miss Fabry's room back in Salem. Maybe this professor wouldn't hate him, or embarrass him in front of the class, or bore him to tears, or...

The door at the far end of the room swung open, and Alf lifted his head, and his jaw dropped.

Miss Fabry...here? Teaching muggle studies? His Miss Fabry? _His Dad's Miss Fabry?_

Well, so much for this Professor not hating him!

WWWWWWW

Michelle came up short as she looked in to the classroom. Alf Weatherby was sitting there, at a desk in the back of the room. Alf WEATHERBY. She just flat out stared at him, because of all the impossible things that might happen in the world of magic (and there were many), this was the most impossible of all.

Apparently she wasn't alone in being surprised. Alf had lifted his head when she came in the room, and his face became drawn (well, actually, it had been surprisingly pale anyway), his mouth had opened in a slight "oh" expression, and his eyes widened. Both of them seemed to hold their breath for a moment; she tried to sort out jarring facts that were shooting at her randomly. Alf was, clearly a wizard. That meant, in all likelihood, _George _was a wizard. His secret suddenly became clear to her; his secret had been her secret, and if things had worked out, if he hadn't _fucking_ abandoned her, it would have been deliciously ironic. But as it was...

She had to pull herself together abruptly, as another group of students, laughing and horsing around. She turned away to her desk, to the chalk board, and began to go through the motion of writing the usual notes for the students. Meanwhile, her mind burned...Alfred Weatherby was in her classroom.

She turned back to the students, the last of whom were filing in. And as she picked up her list of students, the one she hadn't had time to look at before now, she noticed things. Her eyes kept going to a familiar head of hair, and observing that he wasn't talking to any of his other students, including the ones with the same house colors. Pale, unusually so, she had already remarked on; now she saw bags under his eyes, and that his lids drooped slightly. Alf was clearly not having a good day, which was funny since the day had just started. She wondered at first if it was all a result of her, but checked that. Alf wasn't just not speaking to the other students; he was being pointedly ignored and looked downright depressed, now that he was over the shock.

All in all, this just wasn't her Alf, the one she'd had in class last year. She thought again about George's abrupt departure and wondered if something drastic hadn't happened, and if Alf were suffering for it? She held back her fear; she knew she had a profile in that damned pile that would tell her what was going on in his life. It tool all her resolve not to go back to her office and plow for it now.

Just before the time schedule, a last boy came in. The classroom held thirty, and she only had twenty students. Most had congregated in the middle; Alf was alone in the back row. The newcomer looked around, seemed deep in thought for a moment, and then with deliberation chose to sit next to Alf, giving him a small nod as he did so. She felt oddly pleased about that, when she knew she shouldn't care.

Carefully she began role call. She made note that the last boy's name was Diggory, CJ Diggory. And she continued down the list, all the time her mind spinning behind her façade of calm. She got to the very last name, and caught herself. "Alfred. Wea...Weasley?" She couldn't keep the question out of her voice.

Alf managed a wan smile at her. "Present." He said.

A boy in the front row snickered slightly. "Looks like she's heard of him too...this ought to be fun."

Michelle pulled herself together and quickly began set into her motion of teaching.

"Good morning, students. My name is Professor Fabry and together we will be making an exciting journey into the world of muggles. Some of you may already be familiar with the muggle world..."

_Or maybe more than familiar._

"Others may only know muggles through rumor and legend. In any event, it is important that wizards have an understanding of their world. At any moment, you may have a need to go in to a muggle environment, and your understanding of how to blend in with their culture..."

She kept on speaking, observing the varied reaction of her students in the meantime, and all the while still absorbing her shock. And she couldn't help it; her eyes kept wandering over to Alf, who was so stunned it almost looked like he was in pain.

No, wait...the trained mediwitch in her came out. He didn't _seem_ to be in pain, he actually was in pain. She was quite certain of it.

The lesson went on. She tossed out questions, got some laughs from some stories, and began to really engage them. Even the Slytherin students, who had a reputation of being less than muggle tolerant, seemed to fully tune in to her. And the familiar rush of teaching flowed through her; she loved this, loved this, loved this!

And all the while, she watched Alfred. He was not the same student he'd been in America. There, he'd been totally engaged, brimming with confidence, and enthusiastic. And that had been true even when he['d just been a new student just moved in from another country. What, then, had caused this change? Whatever her issues with George had been, she resolved that she would treat Alf with the same concern she would show any student.

"Mr...Weasley." She hesitated over the name. "Can you tell me the name of the American currency form?"

"It's the dollar, professor." He said, in a muted tone.

"And can you explain the difference in how a dollar is broken up versus the Euro?"

"They're quite similar." His voice was low. "Both are based on a one hundred coin breakdown of the single dollar."

"And was this always true?" She pushed.

"No...each European country used to have their own currency."

"Excellent. Five points to Ravenclaw." She gave him an encouraging smile, but he didn't seem to be up to returning it. And frustratingly, she saw him get no support from his fellow house mates.

She continued on, although her thoughts never fully left the one student she knew well. And the time flew; before she knew it, she was dismissing her class...and she saw Alfred was the first to dart out the door, before she could even try to talk to him. A pity, but then maybe he was afraid she was angry at him over everything that happened back in America. She would have to try later.

Meanwhile she was gifted with a free period, and she had a dossier to read over, on one student in particular.

WWWWW

_Student name: Alfred Bell Weasley; _

_Date of Birth: 3/25/1998_

_Parents: Frederick Weasley (deceased, 1998); Katie Bell Woodruff (deceased, 2008). Guardian George Weasley, appointed June 2008; adoption decreed March 2009._

_In Emergency Contact: George Weasley_

_Parent/Guardian Residence: Godric's Hollow, 162 Felix Lane._

_Work: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Diagon Alley branch._

_Magical background of family:_

_Paternal: pureblood. Maternal: pureblood._

_Expected level of magical knowledge: minimal_

_Expected level of muggle knowledge: extensive_

_Previous education:_

_Sheffield Public School, Sheffield UK (5 years-muggle)_

_Salem Westside Elementary, US (1 year-muggle)_

_Headmistress' notes (confidential to staff):_

_Mr. Weasley has an extensive magical background and an extended family, all Hogwarts graduates. On the paternal side there is a 98 incidence of sorting into Gryffindor; on the maternal side, there is a 67 incidence of sorting into Slytherin, 27 chance of Ravenclaw, and 6 Gryffindor (including his mother). His parents did not marry, Fred Weasley having been killed in the Battle of Hogwarts and his mother passing as muggle until her death. On her death, the young man, having had no previous knowledge of the world of magic, was sent to live with his paternal relatives, who had been equally unaware of his existence. His father's twin brother, George Weasley, was appointed as guardian, later extended to a formal adoption._

_Because of a childhood incident, Mr. Weasley's magic was suppressed until last June. Because of difficulties with maternal relatives (note: maternal relatives are forbidden to have any contact with child) Mr. Weasley and his father George were forced to live as muggles incognito for a one year period. Mr. Weasley's magic was restored after the administration of an experimental potion (patent pending) mere months ago . _

_Summary: I would expect Mr. Weasley to rapidly pick up on magical skills based on the environment he is currently surrounded by, but also would not be surprised to see him having occasional doubts about his abilities. Although considered well rounded and well adjusted, it would not be unexpected for a child who has undergone the amount of turmoil he has, within a two year time period, to have some lingering issues. Also, it ought to be noted that his biological father and his legal father, twins, were in their Hogwarts history among the most notorious pranksters in existence. I would not be surprised for a slight mischievous streak to manifest itself. Professors be aware!_

Whew. Michelle put down the file, and smoothed her hair off of her forehead. The dossier explained so many things, so many questions she had always wanted to ask George, but was afraid to. The only actual shock she was having was to know that Alf and George weren't really father and son. Check that…they WERE father and son, just not by biology. But even that was a jolt to her. Again, the wry irony of knowing that the big secret they were concealing from each other was in fact the same, that they both were worried about telling the other that they were magical, overwhelmed her. A part of her wanted to try to firechat with George right now…but no. Whatever Alf and George had been through, and yes, it had been a lot, didn't explain the way they left.

_Maybe that manuscript would have._ Her conscience jolted her, and a part of her cringed. It was not true that George had gone away without leaving her something. Yes, he did ignore her phone calls, but perhaps there was an explanation there as well. Maybe, just maybe, she had been the idiot?

Her free period had ended; she could hear children milling about, laughing and having fun; lunch time was starting. She got up and left her office, going to her classroom with her mind still in a fog. And was pleasantly surprised, as she flicked her wand over the chalkboard, to hear familiar footsteps behind her. She turned, and Alf, looking hesitant and unsure of himself, looking worried. And she gave him a full smile; whatever was between her and George was not going to affect her and Alf; she would not let it.

"What's up, kiddo?" She asked, gently, and was startled to see Alf's eyes fill with tears.

WWWWWWW

Alf had struggled through Arithmancy as best he could. Actually, the subject appeared it would be fun…he'd always been good with numbers, and this was numbers beyond his imagination. But there were three overriding problems he was having right now. First, he had a burning scar on his shoulder that was positively throbbing, second, he felt like a total outcast, and finally, his father's muggle girlfriend had suddenly become a witch and was teaching his muggle studies class. And he couldn't get his father to talk about the breakup, but he knew whatever had happened had been ugly and awkward.

What little consolation he seemed to be having was that CJ Diggory, of all people, was the only student in his class groupings who was talking to him. Not exactly scintillating conversations… "Borrow your quill sharpener?...What color is the dollar again?...Think Herbology will be so bad?" but it was something!

As Arithmancy ended, and as Alf's housemates cold-shouldered past him, in fact CJ had lingered behind. "You okay?"

"Not really." Alf admitted.

"How was detention last night?" CJ asked.

Alf felt nausea rising at the memory. "She made me do…lines." He got out. And then, with a rush. "And I'm being outcast by my house because of the points."

"I noticed." CJ said. "My house isn't exactly warm and welcoming either…of course, I'm not exactly social."

Alf's shoulder gave a determined throb, and he bit his lip. CJ noticed. "You don't look good."

"Thanks." He said, a bit sharply.

CJ seemed to understand, strangely. "Do you have anyone who you can go to? Someone who can help?"

An image came to Alf. Of an elementary school teacher who noticed every problem each of her children had. Would she be willing to help him, despite everything? "Maybe."

"Then go." CJ nodded towards him. "I'll see you in herbology."

WWWWWWW

Michelle looked over Alf carefully, as the boy turned from her, as if he were unsure what to do. Coming forward, she laid her hand on his shoulder, only meaning to reassure him, but he gave a little gasp and a wince. "You're hurt." She said, in as matter of fact a way as she could. "Come, Alf."

Gently she guided him to her office, and then through to her quarters, which consisted of a small sitting room and a larger bedroom in back. She had him sit on the small sofa, and came up beside him. "Tell me what's going on, Alf." She asked, trying to be as soothing as possible.

He blinked, and then found his voice. "You're a witch." He said, sounding as if it were still a question.

"And you're a wizard…although you weren't last year. I have a dossier on you that I wish I had read BEFORE class today." She gave him a strong smile. "Don't let's worry about you feeling you have to explain things, Alf. I think I have a good idea of your history. Which is not to say I'm still not a little stunned, but I'm willing to get past it, if you are." He matched her smile then, and she grasped his forearm. "Now, then, why don't you let me see your shoulder, hm? I am a trained mediwitch, after all."

Gingerly Alf loosened his robes, and then lifted the teeshirt he was wearing, turning his back to her as he did so.

He heard her swear. Hands came up to the flesh around the wound, as she gently checked the injury. "Blood quill…well, I never! That is against the school charter, at the very least, if not against the actual law…I know it's illegal in America, but England might be different." He heard her accio'ing some different things from the apothecary's cabinet at the back of the room. "Who did this to you, Alf. Tell me all about it…"

Alf gave a little gasp as a numbing potion was sprayed on to his scar. Relaxing after that, he started in on the whole story…of how Professor Morgainnne just seemed to have it in for him, how she goaded him into responding, and then how the detention had gone later. His voice faltered once or twice, at which points Michelle gave his arm a squeeze, even as she kept on working.

"Mmm. I'll have a word with the Headmistress about this…and don't try to talk me out of it, Alfred. She needs to know. As I said, Blood quill is definitely against the charter. And, she's used an additional spell on this one…it was purposely designed to worsen over the first forty-eight hours. Now, Alf, I'm going to use a special spell I know, to go over those letters. It should have the effect of undoing the quill point, but I'm going to have to repeat it if we want to make sure there's no permanent mark." Michelle handed Alf a handkerchief, so he could wipe his face. "And while I'm doing that, you can tell me what's going on with your housemates."

He explained about the Ravenclaw pact, of how he was to be given the silent treatment for a week. He spoke about how he was separated from the only friend he'd had before he got here (Teddy) by house, and he explained how the other friend's he'd made were also seemingly separated from him because of that. What he didn't explain, and what he didn't need to explain, was that he was both lonely and homesick, and generally feeling a failure.

Michelle listened to everything while she worked, taking it all in. Seeing the last of the red letters fade away from the boy's shoulder, she laid a poultice infused bandage over his wound, and then replaced his shirt. She turned Alf to look at her and gave him a smile.

"You're no failure. I've read up on what you've had to go through in the past. Some of it I know I went through with you. You will do fine."

Alf took a deep breath. "I feel like everyone expects me to be as good as all my family was. Not just my dad, but all my Uncles and my Aunt. It's so much to live up to…" He let his voice trail off.

Michelle decided to go where she would rather not. "And what does your…Dad…say?"

Alf shrugged. "I wrote him a short note when I ended up in Ravenclaw, and he seemed fine with it…"

"I'm sure he was more than fine with it." Michelle interrupted.

"But I feel like he's still expecting so much from me. I don't want to let him down." Alf finished, weakly.

"Alf, I know your father and I have our differences, but the one thing I believe about him is that he loves you. Write to him…tell him how you're feeling. Don't torture yourself with wondering." She rose, and held her hand up to him, and led him through to the other door, the one that lead directly in to the hallway. "Alf, before you go, if you ever need anything, the password is 'Rufus.' Please come to me if things are bad. Whatever is between your dad and I, isn't going to affect us. I won't let it. Promise?"

"Promise." Alf gave her a curious look. "Can I ask a question?"

"You can ask. I may not answer, but I won't be angry with you. Go ahead."

"Where IS Rufus?" He looked at her and waited.

Anger boiled up in Michelle, not at Alf, but at George. Whether she was being stupid or not stupid, the man had pointedly ignored her in her most dire need. And now, it seems, he hadn't even done the decency of telling Alf what had happened. Still, she kept calm. "Rufus is dead, I'm afraid, Alf. Hit by a car. I had to put him down."

Alf's eyes got wide and filled with tears. "Oh, I'm sorry…I really liked…" His voice trailed off, seeing that Michelle was getting emotional too. "Well, sorry…and thanks."

She smiled at him once more, as much as she could, and then she returned to her own apartment, so he wouldn't see her cry.


	5. Ch 5 Revelations

CJ Diggory had left Alf and headed towards lunch, deep in thought.

CJ knew his faults. He didn't make friends easily. He didn't converse with others easily. He came across as arrogant and rude. He didn't mean to; but when your entire social existence previously consisted of a crazy father, a ghostly brother, and a handful of house elves, you didn't have much to go on in interacting with kids your own age.

He knew why he had been sorted in to Slytherin, and had always thought he would be from the moment that Cedric had described the houses to him. Not that Cedric, his honorable, dead brother, had ever thought that way. But CJ, going over the houses, thought about what he was, what he wanted to be in the future, and what he needed to be now.

What he was, was a kid with a supremely messed up home life. He could see that, all the more so now that he saw other kids with normal lives. His father had created him for the sole intent and purpose of getting revenge on his perceived enemies, first and foremost George Weasley. It took a certain amount of cunning to get around that; he knew cunning was probably his most developed skill. How to manage his father, how to avoid brutal punishment for imaginary infractions, how to survive…that was how he'd existed so far.

What he wanted to be in the future? He wanted a life…a normal life, the life that an Alfred Weasley might expect, or a Teddy Lupin. He wanted to be everything his brother might have been, everything his father once was. Sometimes the desire for that very basic dream consumed him. It was ambition, of a sort; perhaps not the thirst for greatness that Slytherin was known for, but still a driving force. And he would do whatever it took to achieve that dream.

What he needed to be now…was careful. One false move and his father would yank him from Hogwarts in seconds. And his education was the key to any future normalcy. He wanted friends, but his father wanted revenge on the Weasleys…if his father knew he was becoming friends with Alfred, it might go very badly. Unless, of course, he could convince the man the friendship was necessary to the goal. And it _was_ necessary to the goal…it's just that his father's goals were not his.

Yes, CJ knew he was Slytherin through and through.

But his housemates didn't seem to see him that way. And as he had no common history with any of them (many were children of those influenced, at least, by the death eaters), and no good interacting skills, he'd become a bit of an outcast in his own house. It was frustrating, but at the same time perhaps it had served his purpose. With Alfred Weasley having become an outcast as well, it had thrown them together.

Well, that, and that vile professor Morgainne. He normally was good at keeping a cool façade, but boy she had pushed him close insulting Cedric like that. He'd nearly lost it, and was only saved by the fact that Alf had lost it first. Still, he had an ally now, albeit an ally of one he was supposed to hate. Complicated. But he was beginning to have an idea, a way to move forward. A way to become everything he wanted. And he rather thought it was in a way which Cedric would approve of.

He spotted Eileen Prince and Teddy Lupin milling about outside, under a gnarled old tree, looking about. And with deliberation, he approached them.

Teddy spotted him first, and his hair went from purple to a raven black. Not, perhaps a sign of welcome. "Diggory." He said, without emotion.

"Lupin." CJ answered back. "Looks like you're looking for Alf Weasley?"

Teddy and Eileen looked at each other, and then back at CJ. Eileen spoke first. "We haven't seen him since he left dinner for detention last night."

"Right. I'm in classes with him. He looked like he was pretty upset all day. He went off to get help for something." CJ paused. "Did he tell you why he ended up in detention?"

"He didn't…I've heard rumors." Teddy was watching him curiously.

"Right…she shredded his father. My older brother, too, while she was at it. She seems to dislike both of us beyond the common." CJ nodded. "I think he went to see the muggle studies teacher for help. He didn't say that's where he was going…but she's been about the nicest of the teachers we've had so far. Anyway…since his house isn't speaking to him…dunno but maybe there's some way you could pull him over to one of your tables tonight? I'd offer, but I don't think the Slytherins would like him too much. They barely tolerate me."

Teddy was thinking hard. "He'd be accepted right enough at the Gryffindor table…half of them think he should be one of us anyway…but still…that wouldn't exactly mend fences with his own house, would it? And he's still going to have to live with them."

"Pulling him over to one of our tables would be a bad idea." Eileen dug into her bag and pulled out a copy Hogwarts: A Revised History, one that each student was given. "But we have an option…listen!" She opened to a book-marked page towards the end.

"Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, upon taking the reins of the school after the Battle of Hogwarts, vowed to find ways to eliminate some of the inter-house squabbling. One of her changes was the introduction of a neutral table in the dining hall. In that manner, she hopes that future students would feel free to form cross-house friendships and at times commune with them in the common area. She has devoted herself to the free exchange of ideas and debates that will help make the most of individual house traits, instead of those traits being used to belittle other houses."

Teddy looked surprised. "So _that's _what that table in the back of the Hall is for. I wondered…all the upper year students would tell me was that people rarely sat there."

CJ rubbed his face. "Seems as if it's not quite working as Professor McGonagall intended."

Eileen put her shoulders back. "Well, just because nobody else is smart enough to use it, doesn't mean we shouldn't be. We are friends, aren't we? And we're in different houses? It sounds like that table was built just for us."

"Right." Teddy threw himself into the idea. "So tonight, the four of us meet there…we'll drag Alf over. His house can't get mad at him over it…not if it's the Headmistress' directive, right?" Teddy caught CJ's eye, and noticed the blush that had come up on the other boy's face. "You're not backing out on this, are you?" He asked bluntly.

CJ was baffled. "I didn't think you two would want me there…I wasn't fishing for an invite…I just wanted to help Alf."

"Shut up." Teddy said. "Show up at dinner."

Eileen was more diplomatic. "Like you said, you wanted to help Alf. That's enough for us."

WWWWWWW

Minerva McGonagall looked over her students as they filed in for dinner, feeling most unsettled. Her conversation with Professor Fabry had absolutely thrown her for a loop, on several levels. First, finding that one of her students had been tortured with a blood quill (which was not only against the charter but banned by the Magical Convention of 1998) had thrown her; finding out which professor, a young woman whom she had always held in the highest regard, had done it was galling. And to a young boy whom she had a bit of a soft spot for, no less! Minerva had been appalled, and planned on writing an explanation to George Weasley to firmly state it would never happen again.

Then there was her conversation with Professor Morgainne. No denial had come forth; nor any sort of regret. She merely stated that she had been unaware of the rule and would not punish an unruly student in the same manner going forward. Minerva prodded her, tried to get some reason for the reaction…it was most unexpected. Yes, Professor Morgainne had undergone difficult times…yes, her husband was imprisoned in Uganda for fighting for muggle rights in that country…but that hadn't excused attacking a child. And truly, Minerva would not have expected Morgainne to attack this student, of all of them!

And she hadn't been any too pleased about what the Ravenclaw house had done to young Mr. Weasley either. She'd spoken to Filius, who was astounded. Clearly it had not been his edict that any house member should be vilified in such a manner, and he vowed at once to correct it. Well, these strange traditions had a way of happening. Why, it was Alfred Weasley's father Fred who had been forced to stand all night in the rain during his first year. Minerva had come upon them by accident…though only Fred had been 'punished' by the house prefect, George had without question gone with him. That was how she learned that in Gryffindor, it was _tradition_ that the first student to lose points to Professor Snape was so handled. She had stopped **that** at once!

She hated it. Oh, she loved the house history that Hogwarts was built on, but hated the extreme of the rivalry that had become of it. House unity could do so much good together…the traits of the four houses were like the four legs of a table that held the school upright. But it seemed instead to bring out the worst in some. And there, in the back of the Hall, was an unoccupied table that was supposed to have changed that, a place she envisioned as an island where houses could join. But it was rarely used…occasionally seventh years working on projects with other house students would meet there, but by and large she couldn't help but feel it was a failure.

She noted Teddy Lupin strolling in with Eileen Prince. There, an example of interhouse friendship…and how long before the rivalries destroyed it?

But…but…what was this?

After a word to a fellow Gryffindor, Teddy resolutely sat at her island table. Eileen Prince followed suit, tossing her braids behind her back. Then some ten minutes later, Alf came in, with CJ Diggory by his side. Surprising, somewhat; the Diggory boy was hard to figure out. Alf seemed about to walk over to the Ravenclaw table, which was still shunning him (Filius had obviously not yet spoken to them), but CJ grabbed his robes. With a tug and a nod, CJ lead the surprised Alf over to the neutral table. And then they both sat down.

There were a few murmurs of surprise, but then the food appeared, and all seemed to forget about the four students at that lonely table.

But Minerva didn't. She watched as the four first years dug in to their food. She watched them talking to each other, heard their laughter. She saw Alfred opening up, his face becoming lighter and easier. Teddy was steady and strong, and Eileen just bubbled with joy. Even young Diggory managed a smile once or twice.

It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Four friends. Four houses. No rules and no rivalries. Everything the founders would have hoped for. Everything _she_ had ever hoped for. She'd always assumed it would be her older students who would lead the way to that table some day. But it was her first years, four children with old ties to the school in their very blood, who had walked right over tradition to form their own rules.

As dinner ended, Minerva came down from the head table. She walked right through the house tables, and came up to the four alone. A hush seemed to follow her. The four youngsters looked up at her, CJ warily, Teddy calmly, Eileen stoutly and Alfred sheepishly (no doubt knowing she knew about the blood quill). Pointedly she put her hand on Alf's shoulder, to admit as much. Then, she spoke.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, Mr. Lupin, and Miss Prince." She smiled at them. "I hope this is something I will see again frequently. It is important to have strong ties within your house, but not to the exclusion of other ties. And I hope, that at times, other students will join you. It pleases me greatly." She patted Alf gently, and then turned away.

It was a good night, after all!

WWWWWWW

Michelle Fabry paced in her room. She picked up the manuscript, and put it down. And picked it up, and put it down. She'd been afraid, she supposed, all this time, of what George might have written. Now she was even more afraid, because what he had written might not be what she had expected. What if, after all this time, he hadn't abandoned her at all?

Finally, she tore open the envelope, and pulled out the thick stack of paper, carefully bound. She read the title, "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," and nearly cried out. If she'd ever read that she'd have known at once what George was; she may have been an American, but everyone knew about the Voldemort Uprising. Sitting weakly in her bed, she started to read.

Three hours later, she'd reached the final pages. Weasley. Of course she knew the name; she'd heard it often in reports that had reached the states on the war. And George had been one of them, one of 'The Weasley Twins', a friend to the famous Harry Potter. Oh, if only he'd let her read this early on…she would have guessed his secret…she could have confided her own…how happy they might have been!

Then she got to the post script. It was in George's hand, and it pushed her over the edge.

_Michelle…I don't know what went wrong today, but it does seem that everything that could have, did. I have to believe, with all my heart, that you had some good reason for not showing up for our meeting, though you didn't call me. And I hope you will understand that there is good reason for what I am about to do._

_Michelle, if you enjoyed this story I have told, I need to tell you something further. It's not fiction. You may call me batty, if you wish, but I am a wizard. I am, in fact, the George Weasley of the story. Harry Potter is my brother in law now. It all happened, and so much more that wasn't in the book. If you want to test what I tell you, at the bottom of the page I have taped a Galleon (wizard money). Grasp it, concentrate on me, think of my face and my voice and my true name. It will glow warm in your hand, and the front of the coin will change to an image of my store, Weasley Wizard Wheezes. It will alert me that you are looking for me, and I once I acknowledge it…well, it will bring you to me. Don't be scared, love…I beg of you to trust in me._

_You are not of my world. I am fine with that. In fact, I don't give a damned at all. I want to share my life with you, now and forever, and if you come to me and tell me you can't handle magic, I'll walk away from it. As it is, Alf's magic is rather in a state of flux (it's why we are on the run, so to speak). If he retains his magic, then I would ask that you allow me to raise him as a wizard, even if you prefer to live a muggle life._

_But I don't think you will…there's something about you that has made me believe that you would be open to magic in your life, open to a world beyond the one you have known. And I don't care what secret you have, no matter how heinous you think it might be…we are good together, Michelle. And all the secrets in the world be damned._

_Alf came under attack today, and I have to leave. Believe me when I say that this isn't how I wanted this to end up. I hope you haven't had some horrible change of heart about us. I would give up everything for you…except of course for Alf, but I know you well enough to know you would never ask me for that._

_I can only hope to hear from you, to show you my world in person, to give me the chance to enchant you with everything that could be. And I wait for you…always._

_Love, George Weasley._

Tears were running down Michelle's face. George had wanted her. George had waited for her. George had been willing to give up every comfort he'd ever known for her. So something had happened with the stupid cell phone…clearly George hadn't been ignoring her…she should have given him the benefit of the doubt.

She reached down to touch the Galleon, and then pulled back. It wouldn't work here, anyway; Hogwarts had protections set up to prevent such things; the Harry Potter rules, she supposed. She half laughed…her George, part of one of the most respected magical families of all. Her parents would even have approved.

Her George. Who said he would wait for her, always. But surely not. Surely her actions had scarred him. He must have waited, and wondered, and hoped, all of these days, and all in vain. Could he love her still?

She supposed she'd find out soon. Surely Alf would be writing to him, as she'd urged. And Alf would have to tell him what had happened. If George wanted her still, the news would no doubt amaze him, and he'd find a way to let her know. If he'd given up, well, she'd figure that out quickly enough.

Restless and depressed, she turned in for the evening, and wondered how on earth two people who loved each other could so thoroughly botch up a relationship.

WWWWWWW

George Weasley was in the process of making coffee when he heard the owl tapping at the door. A Hogwarts owl, and one with two letters in his beak. He sighed…poor Alf must really be obsessing about this Ravenclaw issue. He took both notes, and paused; one of them was on the Headmistress' stationary. Had Alf actually gotten in to _trouble_? He almost felt pleased by the thought, assuming it wasn't anything too serious…if Alf was feeling comfortable enough to foment mischief, his job was done. Quickly he broke the seal.

Reading, he found himself sitting limply in a chair. His son, tortured with a blood quill by some bitch of a potions Professor? That was something Severus Snape would never have done, and the man had no love for the Weasleys. Who _was_ this woman, and more importantly, how did he get close enough to her to pay her back in kind?

It seemed that the Muggle Studies professor had helped Alf. Professor McGonagall didn't mention her name, but George resolved to make a point of thanking her at some point; clearly she was a decent and good woman. Fortunate that Alf had someone he felt comfortable with; perhaps she had reminded him of…well, of other teachers that he wouldn't think about.

The end of her letter soothed him a bit.

"…_and may I say, George, how pleased I am to see him handling himself so well? He has formed friendships with students of each of the other houses, and I see a bright future for him, for young Teddy, for Eileen Prince and CJ Diggory. Watching them tonight, I saw the very fabric of Hogwarts change, and for the better. It is a special person who could make that happen, and I see him at the center of it._

_Better still, he has not as of yet blown up a toilet. Wonders will never cease._

_Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_PS…the announcement will be coming in the next few weeks…I am instituting a parents weekend around Halloween. I want a chance for student's parents to see them over a weekend at the school, to meet the teachers and to fully understand what their children are learning. I think it will be particularly helpful for the muggleborns. _

_I hope I can count on seeing you there, George. Though I understand you haven't been here in over ten years, and though I understand why, it will mean the world to Alf. And we have a memorial room now…you ought to see that as well. Perhaps it will give you closure."_

George blinked once, but smiled. Yes, he would go for parents weekend, though he rather thought that the memorial room might be beyond what he could handle. But to see Alf, to make sure he was okay…and, in the process, to give that Potions witch a piece of his mind…for that, he would go back to Hogwarts.

Turning to the other letter, this one was indeed from his son.

"_Dad…_

_I assume that the Headmistress has written to you about my run-in with the Potions Professor. Don't start planning ways she should meet an early demise; I'd hate to have to visit you in Azkaban. Besides, the Headmistress assures me it will NOT happen again. And the way she said it, I believe her; though she's not as stern as you described, when she gets like that she's not somebody I can see being disobeyed._

_The muggle studies professor insisted I write you. She…_" Here there was a section written, gone over, and crossed out in a messy blot of ink; clearly Alf had thought twice and three times about whatever he might have said about this woman. George chuckled, suspecting a crush. _"Anyway, never mind. She was very nice to me and I have no doubt she would help me in the future if I ever needed to. But Dad, what she wanted me to explain to you was that I'm feeling a bit out of my element, like I can't possibly live up to what everyone is expecting."_

George cursed under his breath.

"_Stop swearing…I can imagine what you're saying. And I know I'm being stupid. Still you seemed to think that you and Fred had this terrible reputation…but it's not quite like that.. Yeah, everyone knew you were troublemakers, but you had a lot of respect from the teachers. Like…they didn't want to admit it then, but you were geniuses of some kind. Especially Flitwick…he still talks about that swamp the way my art teacher in Salem spoke about the Mona Lisa._

_Anyway, I am doing okay. And I have great friends, which helps. And we're finding our way. And I will be fine. But I do miss you…and I am more homesick than I expected. _

_Especially your lamb curry!_

_Kidding._

_Love, Alf_."

George chuckled to himself. Imagine old Flitwick feeling that way…still, he and Fred had always been particularly good at charms. Well, Alf would be okay…he knew that. He had friends and he'd made it through this early trial well enough. And he had people looking out for him. And, apparently, a crush on his muggle studies teacher. A perfectly normal eleven year old wizard, in fact, and George wouldn't have it any other way.

Well, he'd see it all for himself over Halloween. And he was looking forward to it. Especially about meeting this muggle studies teacher!

WWWWWWW

Two weeks passed. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and Alf had just returned from Quidditch practice. He was a reserve keeper on the team, and was loving every minute of it.

Darius had very sheepishly come up to him the day after he and his friends had first made use of the communal table. It seemed that Professor Flitwick had been none to happy about the practice of shunning students. Darius had apologized, particularly when he'd been informed about the blood quill. Clearly, any practice the house had instituted that had prevented Alf from going to one of his prefects with a serious problem was a bad one. Then Darius had, perhaps as a peace offering, reminded him of Quidditch try outs and encouraged him to join.

It might have been guilt that got Alf on the team as a reserve; he didn't much care in this instance. He was making the most of it, of learning from the older, bigger students, and had really come a long way. And his housemates had warmed up to him; particularly as his grades were usually stellar and, with the exception of Potions, he was more in the habit of earning points than losing them.

But today was a day for spending under their old oak tree, with Eileen and Teddy and CJ. He threw himself down on the ground beside them; CJ was working on a sketch of the school, and Eileen was working on her Divination paper. Teddy was tossing a snitch up in the air to himself. Gryffindor, alas, did not have a reserve system working, and he'd been bested in the tryouts for seeker by a fourth year.

"Practice okay?" Teddy asked, with just a hint of envy.

"Brutal. I feel like my body's been in a blender." He grimaced, though clearly he was completely happy.

"What's a blender?" CJ, Eileen and Teddy asked together.

Alf laughed. "You need to study your muggle textbook a little better."

At that moment the impossible professor Morgainne passed by, pausing to address them. "Well, Mr. Lupin, I see you persist in turning your back on your house." She sneered. "But as the Headmistress wouldn't see it that way, I suppose I must allow it. Mr. Weasley, it's a pity you won't be playing in the first game against Gryffindor. I would have enjoyed watching you humiliated."

Alf flushed, but held his tongue. Even if she couldn't use a blood quill again, she no doubt could find many ways of making him miserable if he rose to her bait.

She turned next to CJ. "And you…too much of a coward even to go out for your house team. Your brother would be ashamed…not that he ever understood the meaning of the word shame."

And with that parting shot, she strode away.

"Bitch." CJ glowered. "One of these days…" He muttered.

"Watch yourself with her. She's just waiting to get at one of us." Alf warned. Then he turned to Teddy. "She's your head of house…I hope she's not taking our friendship out on you?"

"Nah. Just words, like now. She won't take points from her own house, and from what I gather McGonagall chewed her out pretty good." Teddy shook his head. "She seems to be particularly hateful to you two…any idea why?"

"Damned if I know. Most people liked my brother." CJ folded his arms across his body.

Alf shrugged in agreement. "My Dad probably made an enemy or two in his days, people who didn't care for his sense of humor, but not within his own house, surely…and she must have been Gryffindor…though he never mentioned anybody by that name."

Eileen choked a bit, and all three turned to her. With a sigh, she put away her paper and looked at them. "You lot have never been in the memorial room, have you?"

She got three blank stares in return. Of all the students at Hogwarts, Alf, Teddy, and CJ would probably have been the last to go into the memorial. After all, they had direct and raw losses to that period, and it was almost like rubbing salt into wounds. Eileen stood up, and held her hand out to Alf; Teddy and CJ rose also. "I don't know what it means, but you ought to see…will you come with me?"

They followed her through the grounds to a small stone building, rather like a muggle chapel. Inside were photographs, news articles preserved under glass, candles burning perpetually. CJ was instantly drawn to a photo of Cedric, listed as the first casualty of the war. "I never saw him like this." CJ said. "He looks so…warm."

Alf and Teddy were in their own worlds. Teddy stood before a photo of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, laughing recklessly at the world; Alf had found a photo of Fred and George, resplendent in Hogwarts robes and waving eagerly to the camera, while they were wrestling Percy to the ground for some infraction. Alf laughed through tears in his eyes at the sight. A note indicated that all the Weasley family had joined in the battle, with Fred giving his life for the cause. Honorary diplomas had been given to both twins after the battle…Alf remembered then that the twins had dropped out during Umbridge's reign.

Eileen gave them a moment. Then, she spoke in hushed tones. "It's here, in the display case on the life of Harry Potter.

"Boy, he'd HATE that." Teddy said, pulling himself towards the glassed in presentation.

There were many articles and artifacts from Harry's school days there. But the one Eileen pointed to was a picture of a Quidditch team, from the year they won the house cup. Alf recognized Harry at once…his uncle had grown taller, but still had much the same look about him as he'd had as a student. And then…

"George and Fred." Teddy said. "Which one was your Mum?"

"Here…Katie Bell." He knew that shy smile and gentle gaze anywhere. "And behind her is Oliver Wood…pro Quidditch player now." Alf recalled having met him once at the store.

"Right." Eileen said. "There are two other chasers…Alicia Spinnet…" She pointed. "And…Angelina Johnson."

Alf nearly jumped. Angelina Johnson, standing behind Fred and George, her arms around both of them, looking happily from one to the other. A strong, beautiful woman, dark and proud and full of joy for their accomplishments. A woman that despite the passage of time and the change in attitude was still clearly recognizable as Professor Morgainne.

"Hell!" Teddy said. "She looks like she used to be _nice!_"

"I know my brother was instrumental in costing Gryffindor a game that year…although he tried to undo it when he discovered he'd had an unfair advantage. Clearly she never forgave him." CJ remembered Cedric's stories of the Dementor attack on Harry Potter.

"Ohhhh…" Alf groaned, tapping his head against the front of the case.

"What is it?" Eileen asked. "Do you know why she'd have it in for you?"

"She used…to date…my father." He moaned. "They broke it off right after the war…actually, she dumped him…but she must still have issues. He makes it sound like she wished it had been him that died and not Fred. Apparently it was always Fred she was in love with."

"Oh." Eileen made one of those isn't' it obvious faces that caused all three boys to look at her. "Well, your Fred's son, biologically anyway. If she'd always loved Fred, she probably thinks _she_ should have had his son."

"How…" CJ asked, agape. "Could you possibly _know_ that."

"I am a girl." She pointed out.

Teddy and CJ just shook their heads. Alf put both of his hands on his. "Two. Two of my father's ex girlfriends here at the school as teachers. Could this be any more _awkward_?"

"Two?" Eileen asked.

Teddy spoke for him…the secret that Alf had only shared with his oldest friend at school. "They knew Professor Fabry in America…his dad and she were pretty tight."

"Oi. That's a right mess. What did your dad say when you told him she was here?" CJ asked.

"I didn't." Alf admitted, blushing. "It's…well, he's still in love with her, and she made it pretty clear she's still dead on furious with him. I just didn't know how to say anything."

There was silence in the group as they tried to absorb this development. Then Eileen pulled a flier out of her bag, one that had been distributed just that morning. "Well, this is certainly going to be an interesting Parents weekend for your Dad, then." She said, passing it on to him.

Alf, who had been at practice, hadn't been aware of the announcement. He stared at it for a second, and then let out another moan.

What in the devil was he going to do _now?_


	6. Ch 6 Resolutions

George found himself puttering about the shop, frustrated and restless. He'd been that way all day, on two accounts. One was the result of the events of the evening before, and the other was the result of a letter he'd received from his son that day.

Last night had been, for him, an official, full blown date. Not one arranged by Fleur to one of her relatives, either; this woman had been somebody George had found on his own; she worked in Olivander's and George had started up a conversation with her, and finally pulled together enough fortitude to ask if she'd like to go to dinner one evening.

Some dates are great successes, and some are unmitigated disasters. This one was the worst kind…it was neither. They had talked politely over a glass of wine and the appetizers, had chatted about books they liked over the main course, and during desert spoke generally about music. On occasion George tried to get to know her better, asking a question or two about more personal things, but she'd deflected him neatly each time.

The only time she'd shown any life was when she'd found out he had a son. She'd been surprised for a moment, until he informed her that Alf was at Hogwarts.

"Oh, so he's at school most of the time. So that's alright." She'd replied.

Thus ended the date.

Then, over breakfast this morning he'd gotten a letter form Alf. It was generally quite positive; he seemed to be doing just fine, after his first trying days. George chuckled over his little adventures with Teddy, CJ, and Eileen; and felt pride well up in him over his successes in his classes. But at the end of the letter, Alf's tone had changed.

"_Oh, you might have heard that they're having a parent's weekend around Halloween. Just wanted to let you know that it's okay if you can't make it. I know what the holiday is like in the store, and you must be really needed there. Besides, there's a lot of painful memories here for you, and I wouldn't want you to go through that. Really, it would probably be best if you didn't come round. And it's not so long till Christmas._

_Love, Alf."_

It had angered him at first, actually, and he wrote an uncharacteristically stern and harsh letter in return, which fortunately he'd thought better of and ripped up before sending. He was fairly certain Alf hadn't mean to hurt his feelings, but assuredly the boy had. Because reading between the lines, Alf didn't want him around. Was he embarrassed of George? After all, Alf was a Ravenclaw, and George had never really graduated from school, honorary degree beside the fact. There had to be some reason.

So George had spent the day going over his non-date in his mind, the woman he had dismissed because she had dismissed his son, and then over his son's letter, which seemed to dismiss him! All in all, pretty rotten and pretty frustrating.

He heard Ron locking up and called out a good-night to his brother, and was wondering if he should stay in the flat over the shop or go home to Godric's Hollow, when suddenly Ron appeared before him. "Got time for a pint, George? I'm buying."

George looked startled. "Don't you have to get home, Ronniekins?"

"Special dispensation. C'mon, we haven't had a conversation that hasn't involved things that explode, transfigure, smoke or scream in months."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." George grumbled, but grabbed his jacket.

Half an hour later they were starting in on their second pint at the Leaky Cauldron, and Ron brought up the first non-work related conversation. "So, how was your date last night."

"Not over quickly enough." George said. "That should be enough to give you an indication."

"So…she wasn't much like this Michelle person I've heard about from everyone but you, eh?" Ron asked, sitting back.

George felt himself blushing slightly. "She wasn't anything like Michelle, and there isn't much for you to hear about her, because that's over."

"Right. So, how is it over? As I understand it you had to bust out of America without talking to her." Ron seemed to have no intention of letting this go.

George sighed. "It's complicated, Ron. She had a way of getting in touch with me if she wanted to…and…oh, hell, she was a muggle, it would never have worked out anyway."

"Who told you that?" Ron drank from his mug.

"Bill."

Ron spluttered noisily, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "You went to Bill about this? BILL?"

"Yeah, Bill." George said, defensively. "I had a long talk with him about it; I was considering going back to Salem to, well, to see her in person, to make it final one way or another, but Bill talked me out of it. And he was right to do so!" George protested, as Ron made faces of disbelief. "Muggle-wizard relationships don't work out."

Ron just shook his head. "I don't believe you. First of all, the George I've always known would have considered that a challenge, not an obstacle. But never mind that; what on earth are you doing taking advice about women from Bill, of all people?"

That pulled George up short. "Who else? He was more successful with women than anyone else I ever know."

"Well, right. Women used to fall at his feet willingly without him even opening his mouth. Which is why he is the worst possible person you could talk to. He never had to work at it, George. Bill walked into a room and he could just choose at will. Hell, even when he was mauled by a werewolf Fleur stayed by his side with no effort whatsoever." Ron gave him a grin. "Bill doesn't know a damned thing about women because he's never had to."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me you do?" George sat back and glared at his younger brother.

"Well, yes. Look at what I had to put up with. My best friend was the most famous wizard of our age. My older brothers were all more talented than me. I am not anywhere near as good looking as Bill. And I had no money. If I wanted to get noticed, I had to work at it." George laughed, but Ron didn't take offense. "Okay, Hermione likes to paint me as obtuse. But maybe I never was quite as stupid as she thought I was."

"Oh, right." George smirked. "You're going to tell me you purposely didn't ask Hermione to the Yule ball so you could make one Parvati Patil miserable for the evening?"

"Padma…Harry was in charge of making Parvati miserable. No, it wasn't a plan, but it was a learning experience…which is my point. If I'd been Bill I'd have just pointed to Hermione day one, she'd have swooned at my feet, and we'd be living the same mindless boring wrapped up in each other existence that Bill and Fleur have." Ron tapped the table. "And I wouldn't have been happy with that. Mi and I have our ups and downs, but that's half the fun of it. We're challenging each other constantly. And if I know you, that's what you'd want to. You don't want a doormat, George, not even a good looking one."

Something inside George crumpled at that. "I want Michelle, Ron." He half groaned. "Still, and despite everything."

"Then go to her. Go back to Salem this weekend, talk to her. Tell her you were being an idiot. Forgive her if she was being an idiot. But don't let it end like this. It's eating you up." Ron raised a glass to George, who with some hesitation matched the cheer. "I know it kills you to take advice from your little brother, but do trust me on this, alright?"

George looked Ron over carefully. "You are a great deal smarter than you look." He deadpanned.

"Another fact which I have continuously used to my advantage over my lifetime." Ron winked. "Just took you a while to catch on."

WWWWWWW

Saturday, October 11, 2009

Alf hadn't told anybody about the letter he wrote to George. He knew Eileen, at least, would try to talk him out of it. But ,well, there had to be a better way for George and Michelle to meet again than in the company of the former Angelina Johnson. He was imagining all sorts of ugly coming out of that, and there had to be some way to avoid it.

Professor Fabry had continued to be quite kind to him, and a good friend. He'd brought his Rufus by one day; the cat had taken to her immediately, and he rather thought she'd had tears in her eyes when the giant puffball had put paws on her shoulders and rubbed chin to chin, purring loudly. And she didn't seem to have quite a chip on her shoulder about his Dad, either, though she never mentioned him. Alf purposely didn't bring up Parents Weekend.

Professor Morgainne was unchanged, although she never gave Alf detention again and did seem to be marking him fairly (he and CJ always made sure they had every supply ready, plus a few they didn't think they'd need, but that she might call for just to spite them). She baited both he and CJ repeatedly about their relatives, but now that he knew what was behind her anger, he let it roll off of him. Not an easy thing to do, but necessary.

CJ, however, had finally cracked on Thursday, actually throwing his ink pot at her when she'd made a crass comment about how Cedric's body had looked when it had been dragged back to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. As a result, Alf knew he had been in detention all morning.

Teddy and Eileen were at the moment in the library, working on a group project for their charms class, and Alf's practice had just ended, so he was more or less wandering the castle looking to roust out CJ...his detention couldn't have taken more than a few hours?.

He found CJ huddled in an abandoned hallway on the third floor, an area of the castle never refinished after the battle. He was shaking slightly and his face was nearly gray; he leaned against the wall clearly in tremendous pain. Alf guessed immediately: "She did it to you too?"

CJ managed a nod. "Didn't...didn't want my house...to see me like this. Weakness." He stuttered out.

"CJ, you have to go see Professor Fabry...trust me, please?" Alf implored. "You know she was able to fix me up right as rain. And she won't tolerate this happening."

CJ swallowed hard. "She likes you though." A slight bitterness crept in to his voice. "Better than she likes me."

_Why she likes me after everything that happened last year I don't know_. "She's decent, CJ. And she was pretty pissed about the whole thing on principle. I'll go with you."

CJ thought that over for a minute. He was clearly in quite a lot of pain...Alf didn't think he'd EVER forget the terrible burn of that pen, like razor blades dipped in lemon juice cutting into his flesh. "A'ight." He muttered, rising gingerly, his back held stiff.

They avoided other students; Alfred knew how to get to Professor's Fabry's quarters the back way. He was glad now she'd given him the password...he'd not had to use it again, as he'd always visited her in her office, but he fancied that getting CJ to her with as little visibility as possible would be the best thing.

"Professor Fabry?" He called, knocking on her door.

"Alfred?" She said, sounding a tad worried. "Come on in."

She was dressed muggle, like she used to in Salem, and he gave her a familiar smile. "Sorry to bug you." He tugged CJ to get him to follow. "CJ had a run in with Professor Morgaine, like I did." He explained. "I thought you could maybe help him out."

Her face went completely blank. "She used...that QUILL again?" He watched her shoulders set, her lips thin out. "I will deal with her later."

CJ paled. "I threw an ink pot at her in class." He muttered. "She had every right to give me detention."

"There is a difference between detention and torture, and a Blood Quill is against the 1998 Wizarding Convention, as Professor McGonagall has explained to both of us." She was gathering the appropriate supplies to treat him with. "Where did it work? Shoulder, like Alf?"

CJ blushed now, a deep red. "Same area...bit more than shoulder." He ducked his head. "You don't have to have me take my whole shirt off, do you?"

Alf caught the twinkle in her eye, at CJ's modesty. "Not at all. I'll spell your robes just to reveal the Quill marks, if you like. On the sofa, then; lean against the back arm."

Relieved, CJ did as instructed, grasping hold of a pillow tightly. With a quick incantation, the young Slytherin's robes and shirt peeled down to just above his shoulder blades.

Alf gasped, and bit his lip hard. He saw Professor Fabry pale. Alf's punishment had "I will not tell lies" engraved in his left shoulder. CJ, however, had been branded with a bit more: CEDRIC DIGORRY WAS THE BIGGEST CHEAT AND FRAUD IN THE HISTORY OF HUFFLEPUFF HOUSE. I WILL NOT PRETEND TO BE HONORABLE WHEN RELATED TO THE MOST DISHONORABLE OF ALL."

"Bloody hell." Alf whispered.

It covered three lines, from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, and looked agonizingly deep.

"How many lines did she assign, Mr. Diggory?" Michelle asked, even as she accio'd a camera to record the damage.

"Five hundred." CJ said, keeping his voice even.

Alf thought about his own two hundred, and how that had left him wanting to scream. He was astounded he'd only found CJ huddled in the corner breathing hard, and not screaming the castle down.

"Right." Evidence taken, she put the camera down, and began, with amazing tenderness, to treat the wounds. A mild numbing spell at first, and then diligently tracing the engraved letters with that special poultice. She glanced quickly towards Alf. "This is going to take rather longer than yours did, Alf. I have a small kitchen area; why don't you pour the both of you some orange juice."

"You have OJ?" Alf nearly ran for it, he was so excited. Pumpkin juice was most definitely not his thing.

CJ's eyes were closed against the discomfort when he came back; Michelle beckoned him over. She poured a ground potion into one of the glasses, conjured up a straw, and motioned Alf to give it to the other boy, which he did.

"Thanks." CJ said, trying to sound blasé and failing. He sipped, and then his eyes grew wide. "Not bad." Was all he'd say. But he drank the beverage down within minutes.

Alf watched as CJ's eyes grew glassy, suddenly; and his body relaxed. Alfred turned to his teacher. "You didn't knock me out?" He asked, wondering if it was just because of the severity of his injury.

"I didn't need to. Although you wouldn't have known if I had; CJ will just be out for a few minutes and will be completely unaware of it, unless you tell him. And I'd ask that you not do that." She said, spreading another layer of poultice across CJ's back.

"Okay." Alf sat back in the chair opposite.

She looked at him curiously. "And you're not going to ask me why?"

"I trust you."

She just smiled at him. Then she did something completely unexpected. Whispering soft incantations under her breath, a haze formed over the unconscious boy; a snaking mist seemed to envelope him, moving around him from head to toe, investigating his body, easing over certain areas repeatedly. As it did so, Michelle's face grew more and more grim.

"Is everything okay?" He couldn't help but asking.

"Not really, Alf...but I can't say any more than that. Just, keep it to yourself, okay?" She looked at him curiously, as the mist began to fold back into her wand. "You and CJ seem to have become fairly good friends?"

"Yeah, we have...although it's not always easy." He started, then paused. "CJ's a bit of a loner, really; sometimes he even seems to pull away from us, like he's afraid of getting too close." Then, with resolve. "But he is my friend, and I couldn't let him suffer...not when I knew you could help him."

She gave him that warm grin that he remembered from Salem. "You're a good kid, Alf." And with that, she resumed treating the engraved markings, the poultice sinking in layer after layer. CJ blinked once, and as predicted didn't even seem to realize he'd been out.

"The scar will fade in a few days, and it shouldn't hurt too badly...try to keep it dry." Michelle advised, waving her wand so CJ's robes returned to position.

A flicker of relief ran over CJ's face. "It won't be permanent, then?" He asked. "Rumor always was that Harry Potter's scar from Umbridge is still there."

"No, this won't be permanent...I caught it quickly enough. Besides, from what I understand Harry Potter's scar was repeatedly carved into him on several occasions. This, I can assure you, is a one time injury." From the tone of her voice, Alf was exceedingly glad not to be Angelina Morgainne.

CJ gave her just the faintest hint of a smile. "Thanks."

"Off with the two of you, then..." She shooed them away. "I have things to take care of."

Alf gave her a confident smile as they exited, one she matched as the door shut behind them.

They walked in silence through the winding hallways towards the great hall...dinner would be soon. "Alf." CJ said, suddenly. Alf turned; the other boy was holding out his hand, Alf shook it solemnly.

"Thanks." He said, the look in his eyes very serious now. "My brother's memory is all I have of him. Having THAT..." He glanced over his shoulder. "Carved into me forever would have been more than I could bear."

Alf nearly laughed at how serious CJ was being, and how formal. Didn't he understand that friends looked out for each other? Apparently not. "It isn't true, you know." Alf said, thinking about both his Mum's stories, and George's. "My dad was at school with Cedric, and I've never heard him say a bad word about him."

Did he imagine it, or was there a second of confusion on CJ's face? Why? A ghostly worry seemed to flit over his friends face, but then it faded and CJ again forced a smile; Alf let the incident pass without comment. CJ had been through enough for one day.

Michelle Fabry stood in Minerva McGonagall's office, her arms crossed and her eyes a typhoon of rage.

She had reported Professor Morgainne's disciplinary issues to the headmistress, and received all the appropriate reaction. Minerva's anger was exactly as Michelle had expected in consequence of the attack, and she was entirely relieved to know the abuse would be stopping now.

At least, THAT abuse would. Which was why Michelle was one step from throttling the normally reliable headmistress.

"I am quite certain, Minerva..." Michelle said, still feeling funny at addressing the venerated witch by her first name. "In the results of my scan on CJ Diggory."

"Impossible." McGonagall said, with firmness. "There is no way a member of my staff is abusing that boy in the manner which you describe."

Michelle set her shoulders firmly. "I agree about that...I suspect his father. The damage I detected is repeated, constant, and has existed for years."

They glared at each other. Michelle knew damned well what that scan had told her. Repeated bone breaks, neatly healed by magic, but breaks nonetheless. Old welts, hidden and appearing healed to the naked eye, but freely visible to her magic. Bruises upon bruises, long faded but the memory still carried in the flesh of the eleven-year old child she'd just treated. Worst of all, nerve damage...healed, of course, but the tender conduits still weeping from being stretched to the limit of endurance...the damage that could only speak of the Cruciatus curse.

"CJ's mother is dead...and there is NO WAY his father would have done such things to him." McGonagall insisted firmly. "He adores that boy...CJ is his lifeblood after losing everything else."

"I've heard tell that after the war, Amos Diggory became an almost total recluse." She retorted. "Madness takes many forms, and love and hate in madness can sometimes become entwined."

"Do you want me to speak to Amos?" McGonagall asked, lips pursed.

Michelle went gray. "God, no...you can't address the abuser like that! We need to involve the authorities."

"I think, perhaps..." McGonagall said, evenly. "You have been in the muggle world for too long, Professor Fabry. In the magic world, parents are expected to police themselves."

She snorted. "Right. Because wizards have exhibited a repeated history of restraint against other beings."

"Well, if you don't want me to approach him, and the boy makes no accusation himself, there is naught I can do. There is no other avenue available." Minerva's face softened. "I can't say that I agree with that fact, Michelle, but whether I agree with it or not, it is the law in the world in which we live. There is very little recourse with an abusive parent except for the intervention of concerned relatives."

"And this boy has none." Michelle felt frustration fill her. "If you'll excuse me..." Disgusted, Michelle turned on her heel and walked away, storming to her rooms, growing angrier with each step.

Perhaps she HAD been in the muggle world for too long. She had forgotten how pig-headed wizards could be. _Us? Why, we would never abuse our children...we are too evolved for that._ Well, look what death eaters had been capable of. Violence lurks in all beings; and wizards who opted to give in to violence had avenues beyond muggles to indulge. After all, that young boy she'd seen today hadn't shown a single mark beyond that quill scar; wizards could heal; could hide and disguise the most heinous of tortures inflicted on a child.

Slamming her door behind her, she paced aggressively. She needed, she thought, a sensible, intelligent adult to talk to, someone who would share her concern and empathize with her inability to DO anything, or better yet come up with a subtle way something could be done. Someone who liked kids and treated them with respect and love.

She needed George Weatherby.

No, not Weatherby, she corrected herself fiercely. George Weasley. Weatherby didn't exist, and she didn't know if she knew who Weasley was. Oh, that post script he'd left her, the one she stupidly hadn't read for months, indicated that the two might not be so very far apart. But how could she be _sure?_

She set her shoulders. She didn't know what Alf had told his father...Uncle...whatever. But even if all she could ever get back with George was just friendship, she had to believe that some of Weatherby remained, something of the man who had wept for Michael O'Malley. She had to try.

She reached for the Galleon he left her, fingering it just briefly, and then headed outside, towards the Forbidden Forest, and beyond the protective zone to an area that would allow her to be port-keyed (she assumed that's what the Galleon was) to George.

WWWWWWW

George Weasley sat watching as the last customers departed from the store. He'd let Ron leave early, as it was his and Hermione's anniversary, and the day was quiet. Leaving him essentially alone with his thoughts.

His conversation yesterday with Ron over those beers had made him feel better about Michelle, but hadn't addressed his concerns about Alf, and why his son didn't want him around for Parent's Weekend.

A year ago, George would have thought Alf was being genuinely concerned about impinging on his business, afraid of being in the way, of being a burden to George. They'd grown far beyond that now. Which could only mean that Alf actually didn't want him to visit, which ripped his heart out. He missed the boy more than he could ever articulate, and had been counting on being able to see him in two weeks. It hurt immeasurably that Alf didn't seem to miss him at all. Still, he WAS getting to that age where boys didn't always want their fathers around.

Wearily, George began stacking canary creams. Ron and Hermione celebrating an anniversary...God, he wanted that. And that lead his thought back to Michelle, back to his resolve to head to Salem next weekend and make a last effort to make it work. He had begged off of this weekend because it was so last minute, though he knew Ron thought he was procrastinating. It was a big step, though, and he wanted to approach it in the right frame of mind.

He felt, suddenly, Michelle fill his thoughts...as if she were reaching out to him...as if, as if...she had finally decided to grasp hold of that Galleon and will herself to being with him. After all this time, could it be?

Nervously, George picked up his companion coin, holding it tight, and muttered the spell that would activate its mate as a port key. He felt a surge of power and a whirl of wind through the store, as a human being appeared before him.

Michelle Fabry...HIS Michelle Fabry...stood there cautiously. Wearing robes...Hogwarts robes? and carrying a...wand? Staring him at him with an unfathomable gaze and no expression of surprise at having just been port-keyed somewhere!

George promptly dropped the box on his foot, and then screamed as he heard the crunch of his big toe. "Bloody Hell!" He hopped up and down violently.

And Michelle smiled, and pointed her wand towards him.


	7. Ch 7 Expanations

George visibly paled when he saw her point the wand at him. After four months, he was stunned to begin with that she had decided to go ahead and take the chance to see him...but to have her here dressed like that and in a position to hex him...well, hell, he only hoped that _if_ she knew what she was doing that she _wasn't_ still angry with him!

"For the love of God, George, hold still!" She scowled, pointing at his foot. Then, "Evaluecto..." A pause as a jet of air sped towards his aching toe, and then zipped back to her wand. "Tricoterabo."

George gaped as the pain and immediate swelling disappeared, as if it never had been. Leaving him open mouthed and staring at what was the most impossible thing imagined. With ten thousand questions pounding his head at once, he could only state the obvious. "You're a witch." He muttered.

"And a healer, first in my class at New Amsterdam University of Magical Maladies." She replied, placing her wand carefully in her robes. "You are a wizard." She continued, watching him carefully.

"Oh, my God." Was all he could say.

They stared uncomfortably at each other for a few seconds, and then Michelle took a deep breath. "Right. I came here to talk to you about something specific George...but I can see that there's a lot more we have to speak about, before we can talk about anything else. Alf hasn't told you about me?"

George had walked deliberately to the door and turned the sign to 'closed', all the while gathering his thoughts. "Alf knows?" That was nearly as shocking as her being here at all.

"I'm teaching at Hogwarts, George." She said, seeming surprised that Alf hadn't shared that info. "Muggle Studies, and also a class in basic healing for those who've mastered OWL potions and charms."

They stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence for a good sixty seconds.

"I'm sorry." George said, realizing it was all that really mattered to say. He just waited, wanting to throw his arms around her and afraid if he tried that she'd leave him in need of further healing.

She studied him. "Me too..." She was surprised, and suddenly very tired. "Look, is there a quiet place where we could just...just talk, George? I _miss_ talking to you...and we have got to talk about this whole thing, no matter how you slice it."

He came up and took her arm gently. "The Leaky Cauldron...I can get us in a quiet booth."

Ten minutes later, they were talking over a pint of ale. It was George, nervously picking at his napkin, who spoke first.

"I have so much I want to ask you, and so much I want to say...but I swear, Shell, I can't even begin to get it out." He tore at his napkin, wondering where to start. "You didn't know I was a wizard, then?"

"No idea." She rubbed at her forehead. "You seemed a perfect muggle to me, albeit one with a better imagination and world scope than most."

He gave a lopsided smile and looked up at her. "Exactly what I thought about you. So, that's what you were going to tell me, wasn't it? Your big secret, that you were a witch? The day we were supposed to meet." His face became pained. "WHY didn't you tell me?

She blinked at him. "What are you talking about, George?"

"You never showed up! I waited for you in the park like we planned...I was going to tell you I was a wizard, then...and ask you...ask you to consider sharing my world with me, even though it would seem strange to you!" Realizing how he sounded, he let his voice trail off and he forced himself to calm down. "Why weren't you there?"

Michelle felt her world tilting. "George...didn't you get my messages?" She winced at the pain so clearly in his face. "I wondered where you were...why you never called." Setting her shoulders, she looked at him with resolve. "I was at an Emergency Veterinary Hospital, George. Rufus was hit by a car. I...had to put him down. I kept calling...and calling...no answer." She hugged herself tightly. "I wanted you so badly, George. I didn't even think about the fact that it was the day we agreed to meet...I couldn't...Rufus..." She inhaled, and wiped at her face, pulling herself together. "Then I got home...and all you had left behind was a note and a lousy manuscript."

George blinked once, and then his eyes widened. "You never read it, did you?"

"Not until Alf showed up in my classroom." She pulled herself together. "I had considered burning it, actually...but for some reason I never could. Then...when I realized what you must be, I went ahead and...oh, George, I wish I hadn't been so stubborn!"

George ran his hands through his hair. "But still...the cell phone." He pulled it out. "I still keep it with me...just in case you ever tried...I even had my dad rig up an electrical generator so I could keep it charged. In case, you know, you ever called." He held it out towards her, and she took it. "I mean, you had just called me that morning, so I know it was working fine...that was right before I heard from Hermione that they had finished a potion Alf needed..." George came to an abrupt stop, realizing how little Michelle knew.

Michelle was stroking the phone gently. "I know about Alf's potion...it was in his dossier...so you don't have to explain about why you were on the run." She hoped to make that much easier for him. Still, the phone? "George...who is Hermione?"

"My sister in law. She called in via the floo to give me the news." George said, wondering why that mattered...what, did she think Hermione was some other woman he was dating?

Something like understanding began to fill her face. "George..." Her knuckles became white around the phone. "George, was the phone on when you went to speak with Hermione?"

He thought for a moment. "Yeah...I had just hung up with you when Hermione came through..."

She sighed suddenly, putting her head in her hands, shaking it slightly. "Oh, George, muggle electronics...especially those that run on batteries...don't work well around high magical fields. And there isn't a higher field than a floo. If the phone had been off, you'd have been fine...but with it on, you pretty much would have fried the damned thing." She shook her head. "I am an IDIOT for not thinking of that!"

George felt like he was the bigger idiot right now. "No, I am a _moron_ for not _knowing_ that. Besides, you thought I was a muggle...how were you supposed to think I might have floo'ed my phone?"

She looked at him, regret all over her face. "Maybe not, but I should have known you enough to know you would never deliberately ignore me when I needed you."

George gave her a gentle smile. "I am sorry that wasn't there when you did." And then a light came up in his face. "And this explains it!" Relief tinged his voice.

"What?" Michelle asked.

"I got an owl from Alfred basically telling me to keep away from Parent's Weekend..." He winced involuntarily. "I couldn't think why."

"Ah." Michelle nodded. "Yes, meeting you like this was awkward enough...it would have been weird running in to you on Hogwarts grounds." She tapped thoughtfully on the table. "I don't know who was more stunned the first day of class, Alf or I. Poor kid. Still, he trusted me right enough when Morgainne assaulted him..." She paused. "Uh, did he tell you about that?"

George shook his head. "McGonagall owled me to say the potions teacher had done it, and that he'd been treated by the Muggle Studies teacher, though she didn't name names. Alf just barely alluded to it, and now I know why. Still, he can't have thought he could keep your presence a secret forever." He looked at her with some hint of the old warmth. "You treated him, then?" His face glowed suddenly as he had an epiphany. "My God, Shell, in the hospital back in Salem...YOU were the witch who saved his life?"

She gave a single inclination of her head, studying her hands. "I couldn't let him die, George. Even then I cared about you both too much."

"But you thought he was a muggle?" George knew full well that Wizards and Witches were proscribed from treating muggles except in dire emergencies...the wizard and muggle worlds were supposed to be kept apart. She understood the question.

"I would have risked anything for him. Although nobody ever approached me on it...somebody must have confunded the Doctors...oh...I guess that was you?"

"Fleur and Charlie, but yeah." He was still completely dumbfounded by the revelation. So much he wanted to say, that he'd thought a hundred times about contacting her, but Bill convinced him that muggle-wizard marriages were difficult at best. That he still missed her every moment he saw some little thing he thought she'd delight in talking about. That he wasn't able to talk to ANYBODY the way he'd been able to talk to her.

Speaking of which...

"Back at the shop, you said you had something you needed to talk to me about?" He offered hopefully. Maybe, maybe if they could just talk the way they used to, things would be able to work out.

She took a deep breath, and set her shoulders. "McGonagall had me pretty pissed off, earlier, George...and I really just needed to talk to somebody else who might see things my way, even if you weren't anything like the man I remembered." She paused. "I hope you are..."

_I hope I am too._ "Talk, then...whatever you want to talk about."

With a deep breath, she ran through the incident with Alf and CJ Diggory, and her suspicions.

George was pale to the lips by the time she finished. "God, Shell..." He shook his head. "Dad's been wondering about Amos Diggory for ages, Shell. Said he went right off the deep end after his wife died. We were actually shocked he let CJ in to Hogwarts...seems to blame anyone who survived the war for what happened to him."

"Hm." She chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Did Voldemort kill his wife?"

"No, she died in childbirth." George's eyes widened. "With CJ. I bet he blames CJ for that...stupid git."

Something like relief flooded through her; she grasped his hand impulsively. "Thanks, George." She blinked once. "The way McGonagall acted, like it was a regrettable reality, made me wonder if I'd lost my mind. Or maybe things were more different than I realized. Like this was commonplace with English wizards..." She snorted.

"Using cruciatus on a child?" George squeezed her hand back. "The day that becomes common is the day I move out. No wizard worth the name would do it." Their eyes met, like they were in perfect simpatico. Like not a day had passed.

But it had, and they both realized it at the same moment. They slowly untwined, and pulled away. But George wasn't going to give up entirely.

"I realize we've managed to bollocks up this whole thing, Shell." He spoke softly. "In my heart I kept wanting to talk to you, to go back just for a day and explain, and I kept letting myself get talked out of it. That's my fault, whatever else went on between us." He took a deep breath.

She stepped in. "It's as much my fault as yours. Maybe it came from being burned before, but I ought to have trusted you more." She looked away suddenly, blinking.

"My brother Bill is the one who advised I try and move on...partially based on the incorrect assumption that you were muggle. But he had, I think, one thing right, and that's the fact that we did kind of fall in love with each other under false pretenses. I can't ask to go back to where we were, but maybe we can think about going forward? Starting as friends?" George wanted, he knew, so much more than that, but he also wanted it to work this time, and whatever it took to make that happen he was willing to go through.

Michelle smiled at him, relief that he would even give her that much hope shining over her face. "I don't think I could be in the same world as you, George, and not be your friend. As for everything else...let's just take it one thing at a time?"

"Alright." He knew they both wanted more, but were being far more prudent this time around. "So can I ask you something?" She tilted her head and shrugged. "Why _are_ you here? You clearly have been passing as muggle yourself for years. Why now?"

"Ah." Deep breath. "I was raised by an Aunt in America, George. My parents were killed when I was a child, and she took me in. America never had the same issues with dark Wizards that Europe went through, not for a long time, anyway. But I never really felt like I belonged, George. I went to a prestigious, private wizarding academy, where most were long line pure-bloods. I was considered dubious at best. I liked learning healing as a post graduate, loved it in fact, but I didn't really have a lot of ties to the community. Then I met Anthony...and I fell in love." She smiled sheepishly. "Well, love seemed a good enough reason to give up everything that I was...and I learned to be a muggle, got qualified as a teacher, and swore I'd never go back."

"And then you told him..." George nodded. Things were starting to make sense now.

"As I mentioned, he didn't react the way I hoped...and he died." She swirled the dregs of her beer in the mug before her. "But by then I was more muggle than witch, it seemed. It's where all my friends were. So that's how I kept living...if you call it that...until I met you. You, somehow, I knew you wouldn't react like Anthony did, when I told you."

George bit back a laugh. "That's an understatement." He shook his head. "If only we had trusted each other earlier."

"I nearly did tell you...that day I ran into you walking Rufus. You were just so damned understanding about not pushing me for the info..."

"Sure, blame me for being considerate." He grumbled ruefully. "That'll teach me to be a gentleman." He waved his hand to Tom for the check. "But you still haven't answered ...why now?"

"Jimmy talked me in to it." She said, simply.

George held his head stiff. "_Jimmy's_ a wizard? Impossible!"

"No, he's the best muggle I know. But apparently after my fight with Anthony, Anthony actually did call him to vent. So Jimmy knew, and unlike Anthony, he didn't think I was an insane bitch. He never broached it with me, but after you left...and everyone in the neighborhood was thinking it was some sort of witness protection thing...he said maybe I needed a complete change, a return to my roots. And I remembered what you said about running away, and realized that being muggle was maybe the biggest run of all." She grinned. "So I send a resume to Hogwarts, get hired, and run in to your son the second day teaching. I've already had two incidents with the bitch teaching potions who will insist on carving students like turkeys, and now one with the headmistress. I'm thinking maybe being a muggle wasn't so bad."

"Don't!' George said quickly, re-grasping her arm. "You were a wonderful muggle, but I am glad you were at Hogwarts when Alf needed a friend."

She gave him a quick smile. "I do need to get back, George...I don't have house duties, but McGonagall prefers us to return at night unless we tell her, and I wasn't much in the mood to tell her anything."

"I'll walk you out then...can you floo from my place?" He offered.

"To Hogsmead, and then into the faculty passage. But you knew that...from all I've heard from professor Flitwick, you and your brother had the entire castle mapped out." She teased, falling in to step next to him.

"Ha!" George felt light at the memory; for some reason it didn't sting when it came from her. "We had a map that had the castle fully diagrammed, and then some...but that's a whole other story, and we sure can't take credit for its creation. Besides, after the battle, I'm willing to bet most of those secret passages are gone now."

It was a fine night, and she breathed deeply. "Well, we'll leave it to Alf and his merry band of misfits to find their own."

"I do hear my son is collecting a plethora of strange friends...son of a werewolf, niece of Hogwarts' most notorious headmaster, and now CJ Diggory." He grinned openly. "Alf doesn't much cotton to doing things the orthodox way, does he?"

"A friend in each house...McGonagall is quite giddy at the thought. Well done of Alf, indeed." Michelle matched his smile with one of her own.

"Weasley charm!" George exclaimed.

They got inside to his fireplace, and she turned to look at him. "Thanks, George...just for listening to me vent...and for not tossing me out on my ear when you'd thought I'd walked out on you."

"Thank you for not hexing me into next week." He shrugged. "As for CJ...let me see if I can think of something to help the kid. Amos has gone back to work at the ministry...maybe my Dad can come up with some ideas."

She paused, and looked at him thoughtfully. "You _are_ a good man. I don't know if I'm happy about that or not." But she reached forward, and kissed him quickly on the cheek; George blushed as red as his hair as she spun out of his sight.

Turning quickly, he grabbed a pen and wrote a note to his son.

"_Alf...I appreciate you trying to protect me, because I know now why you didn't want me around for family weekend. Michelle was just here. And it's okay, it's all okay. We had a long talk, about everything that happened between us, and we're friends again. That's all, for now, but for now that's enough. So you can count on seeing me in two weeks, and don't even think about trying to talk me out of it. _

_I miss you, you accident prone little blighter; nobody's dropped a firework for weeks. Kidding._

_Seriously, kiddo, I'll be there. And it will all be fine._"

WWWWWWW

"Trouble?" Teddy asked him over breakfast.

They were seated at their special table, where they tried to make a point of joining for at least one meal each day, rotating as appropriate. Now and then a few other students joined them as well, or took advantage of its uniqueness, but mostly it was still their stomping ground. Today, Alf sat, frowning and holding an open letter from his father in his hand.

"It's not a howler." Eileen pointed out sagely.

"No..." Alf sighed. "My dad is INSISTING he's coming out for family day."

"Oh." Eileen and Teddy said at the same time.

CJ looked at Alf carefully. "Still worried about the two exes, huh?"

"Yeah...and he'll go berserk if he knew what Morgainne did to me. I mean, he does know, but he doesn't know _why_...and he doesn't know _who._" Alf folded the letter carefully. "If it were just Professor Fabry, I'd not be worried...she's, well, she's terrific. We thought she was a muggle, actually...but that's another story. Anyway, I wouldn't half mind if they got back together."

"I can see that." Diggory chewed on his bacon carefully. "She is pretty nice."

"Right...she is." Alf set his shoulders. "But I think it's safe to say we all know what Professor Morgaine is like."

Teddy scowled. "I have a hard time seeing Uncle George dating her."

"She must have been very different when she was in school." Eileen mused. "She looks nice enough, in those pictures in the trophy case."

"I really wish Dad would stay away...but I can't figure out how to tell him not to come. I think I hurt his feelings already."

CJ was studying him. "You like your Dad well enough, right Weasley?"

Alf was confused. _Of course _he liked his dad.

"...let him come, then." CJ's eyes were unreadable. "My father can't be bothered. Be happy yours can."

"Mine's in America...he can't be here." Eileen said sadly.

"Mine's dead." Teddy reminded him.

"Oh, sure...pile the guilt on guys...It's not like I don't _want_ to see him...I don't want him to see _her_." Alf waved wildly, knocking over his pumpkin juice in the processes.

Right on to Professor Morgainne.

"Clumsly, Weasley...that's 10 points from Ravenclaw." She looked imperiously down her nose at him. "Be happy you don't go to school in Uganda...you wouldn't be sitting comfortably for days by the time I was done with you. Now say you're sorry for being such a pathetically clumsy bastard child, and that you are exceedingly grateful that appropriate punishment can't be meted out."

Alf flushed, but he stumbled through the request, nearly choking on the bastard part.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you...perhaps you would like to repeat it in detention?" She smiled coldly at him.

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary." Professor Fabry appeared suddenly. "I was able to hear everything quite clearly, Professor Morgainne. Unless you would like to have Alfred repeat it for the Headmistress."

Professor Morgainne smiled, a not very nice smile at all. "No, I guess this will be adequate...for now."

And she strode proudly, as if no rebuke had occurred ever, out of the great hall.

Only once she was gone did Michelle look down at Alf, a slight smile on her face. "Alright then, Mr. Weasley?"

He smiled at her, although still a little queasy from the whole encounter. "Fine, Professor." He turned rather red. "Um, my Dad wrote me today."

"Ah. Told you he and I had a little chat, did he..." She smiled. "It will be nice seeing him at Parent's Weekend." And with a nod group, she moved on.

Teddy looked at him. "Does she know exactly what went on between that Gorgon and your Dad?"

"I'm guessing not." CJ said, thoughtfully.

"No way. If she did, she'd have hexed her into oblivion." Eileen said, sagely.

This was such an unusual comment from the mild-mannered Eileen that the three of them turned to her with open mouths.

Eileen looked thoughtful. "Women don't much care to share men, you know." She spoke with an air of superiority that she had this lovely insider information. "I mean, Morgainne the Gorgon may have dumped your dad, but you said yourself that maybe he and Professor Fabry might get back together. If Professor Fabry knew they had a history, she'd find a way to let her have it."

Alf shook his head. "I don't know what's scarier...Dad seeing Morgainne for the first time or Professor Fabry realizing the whole sordid truth. Ugh."

CJ watched him carefully, then shrugged. "We have to get going, Alf. Muggle studies up next."

Alf was still growing into his friendship with CJ...Still, as Teddy and were seldom in class together, he was glad to have CJ. It wasn't the easy rapport he'd had with Ted, nor even the comfortable one he had back in the states with Tony Castelli, but CJ did seem to be trying very hard. Truth be told, he just wasn't very good at it; he didn't seem to know how to do small talk...it was as if he'd never had a real friend before.

But, as Alf noted, he was trying.

"What's your Dad like?" CJ asked, glancing at him sideways.

Alf looked at him, surprised. "You know from potions, right, that he's not technically my Dad, but my Uncle?"

Raised eyebrows from CJ. "Yeah...but since you were willing to have your shoulder carved up rather than call him that, I assume you preferred Dad."

Alf smiled. "I do. Just wanted to make sure you understood." He shrugged. "Anyway, he's great...I've only been living with him just over a year now, but it's like he's always been there, you know?" Alf threw his bag over his shoulder. "We have this saying...we belong...I suppose it's pretty corny, but it's true enough. We just...belong."

"It's not corny." CJ said, in that calm, expressionless voice of his. "It's what most people would want."

Alf tried to think of a way to phrase a question in return. "It's just you and your Dad too, right?"

"Sort of." He seemed rather evasive. "I mean, there are a bunch of house elves too...and of course, I HAD a brother, before I was born. He's pretty much all I would make a stand for. His memory, I guess." CJ let a little sadness creep into his eyes. "It's hard when the best friend you have is a memory."

Alf nodded in understanding. "That's how I felt about my dad...Fred Weasley, I mean. It was one thing to hear how wonderful he was, how much he would love me, but he wasn't there, you know? A headstone can't teach you how to fly a broom, or help with your homework."

"Sometimes live parents aren't much better." CJ said, with resignation, confirming Alf's opinion that his friend's relationship with Diggory senior wasn't like Alf's relationship with George."

They didn't get a chance to say anything further, as they slid in to their desks, beside each other. Professor Fabry was getting ready to go in to the world of muggle sports. Alf had just enough time to lean over and whisper, "You have more friends now than just a memory, Ceej."

He saw CJ's blink of surprise, before urged the class to settle down, and began to explain the Euro. But as she turned her back to the classroom, CJ tossed over a scrap of paper, with one word on it: Thanks.


	8. Ch 8 Parent's Weekend I

George strode next to Harry on to the grounds at Hogwarts. He had been nervous doing this...he hadn't been back at Hogwarts since the first days after the last battle...after Fred had died. He hadn't realized until the train ride over that Harry hadn't, either. Well, losing Lupin had hurt Harry, he knew; he just wouldn't have thought it to be enough to keep him away.

But the pangs George felt on walking the grounds were different from what he'd expected. Hogwarts had loomed large in his memory as it had been in those last days: the damaged remains of a brutal battle; of a costly victory that left many scars. Instead, as he stood there what assaulted him was the good memories, the memories of sunny days and Quidditch matches, of he and Fred chasing Angelina, Katie, and Alicia through the grounds, or more likely being chased after some pranks they'd pulled. He could hear them all laughing together, smell the food from the Halloween feast, feel the warmth of the common room. And he found himself smiling, though there were a few tears in his eyes.

"Funny." Harry spoke, his voice deeper than normal. "I'd forgotten how HAPPY I was here."

At that moment, George was infinitely grateful that it was his brother-in-law there beside him, because he wasn't sure anyone else could so totally understand his feelings.

"DAD!"

There were many shouts of "Mom" and "Dad" at the moment, but George was as tuned in to Alf's voice as a cat was to the specific meows of its own kittens. He turned and grinned just in time to have Alf engulf him in a full-thrown bear hug. He wrapped his own arms around the boy, and roughed up his hair for good measure. "You're _taller_!" George laughed down at him. "That is _not_ allowed!"

Teddy had Harry engulfed as well. Most of the other boys were more reticent than their two, at least with fathers...mothers seemed to be permitted hugs, albeit unwillingly. Well, to hell with everyone else.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter." A familiar, lilting accent greeted them. Their former head of house, now Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, was approaching them. "It is wonderful to see you here under such happy circumstances!" She leaned over and kissed first Harry on the cheek, and then George, which made them both turn seventeen shades of red, and caused both Alf and Teddy no end of amusement.

"Professor McGonagall." Harry laughed. "You are considerably less formidable than I remember."

"Well, Mr. Potter, I find it _considerably_ easier to be Headmistress than Head of House. I get to be the benevolent despot with the bowl of candies on my desk this time." She gave George a wink. "Just as well...if I were still head of Gryffindor, the shock of having a Weasley sorted in to Ravenclaw _might_ have killed me."

They all laughed, perhaps George most of all, though he also squeezed Alf's shoulder reassuringly at the same time. He knew Alf had been rather thunderstruck and somewhat worried about being so seemingly different from the rest of the family, and assumed that, Alf being Alf, the boy still wasn't 100 percent confident.

Tiny Professor Flitwick approached, nearly bubbling over with excitement. "I should have had Fred and George all along, Minerva! Nobody did charms like you two!" His eyes were misted over although his grin was broad. "And that swamp that drove out Umbridge! Best bit of work I've ever seen!"

George grinned back at him, shaking his hand. "It's good to see you again, Professor. You were the only one who really appreciated our inventiveness. Some people..." His eyes slid over to the Headmistress, "...objected to things like enchanted snowballs."

"Hmmf." McGonagall pulled herself up taller. "I did have a reputation to keep up, Mr. Weasley."

At that moment, George saw Michelle approach, and he managed a calm smile at her. "Professor Fabry." He draped his arms around Alf, hoping to convey to his son how rational he was being, and how silly Alf had been for worrying about putting them together.

"Mr. Weasley, always a pleasure to see you." She, like McGonagall, reached over and kissed his cheek, although the reaction this caused him was entirely different. She turned then to Harry. "And you must be Mr. Potter...it's nice to put a face to the name." George saw Harry tense for a moment, and, horrified, he worried that she would bring up his manuscript! Then Michelle smiled. "Teddy talks about you constantly."

Harry grinned at her, obviously relieved that she wasn't delving into the whole savior-claptrap that often followed him. George's relief was of a different kind…because he knew Harry would kill him if he ever found out about that book "It's a pleasure to meet you...obviously you and Mr. Weasley are already acquainted." Harry said, his eyes looking at George curiously.

"Professor Fabry was my neighbor back in the states, Harry." George said, hoping to cut Harry off from saying anything else too obvious. "Although neither of us were aware that we were...well..."

"Kindred spirits." Michelle said, looking over at a puzzled Minerva McGonagle. "And No, I had no idea that I knew Alf's father before I came here, Minerva. He was in the States under a different name."

"Well..." The Headmistress smoothed out her robes. "That makes it easier, knowing that I don't really have to introduce new staff to you two...I believe you know everyone else."

"On the contrary." George's voice went slightly dry. "I am most interested in meeting your new Potions teacher. There is a word or two I would like to express..."

Funny, but why did Alf tense up NOW? He was only going to make sure that this bitch knew better than to mistreat his son ever again.

"I'm also interested in meeting Professor Morgainne." Harry said, backing him up. "Teddy dropped me a line or two about her early on."

McGonagall was only staring at them both, looking rather startled. "But you do know Professor Morgainne, gentlemen...both of you. Surely your Quidditch days haven't completely escaped your memory?"

George and Harry looked at each other, then at their former head of house, equally puzzled. Alf had gone stalk still, however, and a woman approached him, her robes billowing out and her head held high. She was beautiful, proud and strong, and far too familiar. She was Angelina Johnson, the woman who had ripped his heart out, and what in the hell was she doing here?

"Harry, George..." McGonagle went on, seeing their real confusion. "This is Professor Morgainne, and I trust you do remember each other?"

_Remember each other?_

Hurried nights in hidden corners, groping desperately at each other with teenaged lust...hours spent just watching her as she studied, or laughed, or ran. Nights spent dreaming of her feverishly...and then, after they'd left school, those nights that were no longer dreams. Plans for the future, plans for a family, and then Fred, dead and gone and Angelina ripping away from him, saying he'd never been better than a replacement for his brother, never been the one she actually loved.

"I remember." George said, steadying himself with his hand on Alf's shoulder, feeling queasy.

She merely smiled at him...not the warm smile he remembered, but one filled with derision.

It was Harry who spoke first. "Angelina..." He said, slowly. "I wasn't aware you had gotten married."

"Nobody was." She spoke, calmly. "And that's Professor Morgainne, Mr. Potter."

An exceptionally awkward silence surrounded them, and Flitwick and McGonagall quickly made their excuses. Angelina glared at Michelle like she expected her to leave as well, and for a second George thought she would. Then, to his astonishment, Michelle crossed her arms in front of her, meeting Angelina's glare with a steady gaze of her own. It was Angelina who gave in first. "Am I to assume that you know Mr. Weasley as well, Ms. Fabry?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." She replied, evenly. "We were neighbors in the States last year."

"I see." Angelina tossed her hair about majestically. "Mr. Weasley and I were lovers."

_Oh my God. _George's mouth went dry and his knees nearly buckled.

"Whoa! Teddy, looks like your Gran's just arrived." Harry quickly pretended to be scanning the crowds for Andromeda. "Let's go greet her, eh?" He looked with sympathy at George, and then dragged a worried looking Teddy away with him.

Michelle however, didn't look worse than bemused. "An interesting way of introducing yourself, considering you are now married." She replied. "And even more interesting, considering the nature of your attack on his son."

Angelina's eyes burned hard. "This is not your concern."

"It is." George found his voice. "Michelle is a very good friend of mine, Angelina, and I appreciate her assistance in defending Alf in my absence." Alf was now grasping his hand, in encouragement. "And I am shocked and disappointed to think that whatever animosity you have towards me, you would take out on my son."

Angelina's eyes flashed, but the smug smile never left her face. "You flatter yourself, George. Or do you not remember that it was I who opted to leave you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Michelle watching him, and it gave him strength to go on; it was important that she know how long ago, and how permanently, that relationship had ended. "It is hardly likely that I would forget it, as you chose to dump me on the day I buried my brother."

That stung Angelina, which rather surprised him. "Would you have had me wait, stringing you along for months before I did it?" She asked.

"I would have had you be honest with me from day one, that you were not interested in me except as a means of being close to him." He replied, firmly. "But none of that matters, does it? It's ten years gone, and we've both moved on with our lives. I would expect you to treat Alf fairly, as you would any student, not behave in a manner befitting Professor Umbridge."

Angelina straightened her shoulders, and met his eyes without flinching. "He is lying; every time he calls you father, he lies; every time you call him son, you lie. I punished a liar as I saw fit. I have been spoken to about it, and that punishment will not happen again."

George felt his blood boil, though Alf was stroking at his arm, trying to calm him down. "There had better not be _any_ punishment happening for calling me his father." George growled, feeling fierce. "I have adopted him legally, if that concerns you; but beyond that, if you want to pretend you knew Fred and I at all, you should know that there is nothing more logical than me loving his child as my own; he would no doubt have done the same had roles been reversed."

"Do not remind me that I never had the chance to KNOW Fred. That was your doing, you and your brother...sharing everything except me. But as you say..." She forced herself to remain smooth, as smooth and cold as Fred's tombstone. "...it is a very long time ago. I am married to a brilliant man, who cannot ever be compaired to a pair of raucous school drop-outs. And you...slum as you will." At that point she glanced with hauteur at Michelle, and with disdain at Alf. "I have other students to meet."

And she spun away, and George watched her go, with noting but revulsion at the woman she'd become.

Alf tugged at his sleeve. "That's why I didn't want you to come, Dad." He said, worried. "Eileen spotted her in a photo in the Memorial, of when Gryffindor won the house cup. I was afraid it might be difficult."

_No, I relish having the one former lover I have confronting the woman who I now wish to make my wife, thank you very much. Not difficult at all._

"I can't imagine why you'd think THAT, Alf." Michelle said, wryly. She turned from Angelina's retreating back to George. "You okay, George?"

"Define okay?" He quipped, still squeezing Alf. "I can't believe that she, of all people, targeted my son like that."

"She must have been very different when you dated her." Alf said, looking him a question.

"I thought she was...then again, she was always dating me under false pretenses, so..." George shrugged.

At that moment a stocky Ravenclaw fifth year waved from across the lawn. "Oi, Weasley...Quidditch time...we're on in an hour."

"You're what?" George looked, with gaping mouth at Alf, who suddenly found a grin.

"Once you were coming out, I decided to surprise you...might make running into Morgainne the Gorgon less awkward." He let go of George's robes. "I made backup keeper on the house team. Granted, it's only backup, but still..."

"Excellent job for a first year!" George beamed at him, some of the escapade with his former girlfriend slipping away. "Who's your first match against?"

"Gryffindor...naturally." Alf gave him a wry, apologetic smile and a shrug. "And I have to go...Darius's a bit of a slavedriver."

"WEASLEY...NOW!" The rather large young man bellowed.

"Go on, then...we'll stake out the pitch in about an hour. Can't wait, kiddo." George wondered at the strange look Alf gave him, until the boy ran off, and he realized what he'd done.

_We'll stake out the pitch._ Like he and Michelle would be there together.

He looked over at her, to see how she took it. She was expressionless. "Er...sorry. Old habits, I guess...of course I wouldn't expect you to want...I mean, given everything..."

She gave him a smile. "I'd love to sit with you guys during the Quidditch match. I'm not burdened with head of house duties, so I have no loyalties to uphold. In the meantime, care to take a walk back towards the castle with me? I really do need to be visible for any other students who might want to chat."

George felt something light up within him. He was glad that Angelina's behavior hadn't negatively impacted her opinion of him. "Sounds excellent...I haven't been here...in eleven years." He knew he didn't need to explain why.

They strolled side by side through the grounds of his childhood. He took delight in sharing the memories as the were jogged from his mind; and she in turn shared stories of this modern Hogwarts, the children she taught and the things that they did. As they headed towards the castle, a few different young people approached her with their parents; often times George recognized them as his clientele, and he was drawing his own share of admirers.

"You've got a bit of a Wily Wonka aura about you, don't you, George?" She asked, as another young Wheezes fan ran off after shyly shaking his hand.

"Until last year I wouldn't have a clue what you meant, but I suppose I do...although I must admit I find Gene Wilder rather creepy in that movie." He chuckled a bit, and then noticed two youngsters, no older than his boy, sitting under a gnarled old tree. THEY had no parents with them; certainly they were not the only ones, but they seemed to have placed themselves outside of the festivities entirely.

"Ah..." Michelle caught where his vision was drawn. "Alf's other friends, George. That's Eileen Prince and CJ Diggory."

"Amos didn't show his face, then?" George felt the same disgust he'd felt when Michelle shared her suspicions. "Not that I'm surprised...Dad's tried chatting him up several times and been blown off each one."

"Right. And as for Eileen...her father's rather elderly, and couldn't make the trip. There's a party in Hufflepuff for those students without family members here, but I'm not surprised that she'd choose instead to be with CJ. She is, as her house implies, loyal, and he's one of the four." Michelle watched them with fondness.

George, however, reached into a pocket, patted it, and strode forward, large Weasley smile on his face. "Oi, there!" He tossed to the two kids each a small novelty item; one, a charmed snitch that followed its owner about (that to CJ) and the other an enchanted scarf that folded itself into various origami-like shapes. "Understand you lot are friends of my son, eh?"

The young girl's face lit up as she beheld her treasure, and they both rose. "Oh, you must be Alf's father! Thank you, it's so cute." She held her hand out to him, and he was surprised at the sureness in her handshake and her smile.

The young man beside her seemed, to the contrary, wary and cautious. Still, he held the snitch, now fairly purring in his hand, with a look of awe. "You didn't have to do that, Mr. Weasley, but thank you." He held his hand out very seriously.

George took the offered hand, and felt a pang at his heart. So much the young man looked like Cedric, and yet NOT. None of Cedric's easy grace and kind demeanor; not the open and giving personality. No smile like Cedric, either. Of course, given what Michelle suspected, that was not so surprising.

"You are quite welcome, CJ." He looked with great kindness down at the boy. "I was at Hogwarts with your brother, you know."

Something even more wary crept into those old eyes. "I know, Sir. My Dad told me." War waged within the boy for a second, and then curiosity. "What was Cedric like?" finally came out, and the boy blushed. "I mean, I know you don't have time, and all, but some time, maybe...I'd like to know more about him."

George's heart melted. "I have plenty of time...at least twenty minutes, if you two would care to join us. We're just heading down towards the Quidditch fields to watch Alf warm the bench."

CJ hesitated, but Eileen nudged him. "C'mon, Ceej...you don't want to sit with the stuffy Slytherins anyway."

"Alright." He agreed. "Match is against Gryffindor, so it doesn't matter so much to my house. In fact, they probably want Ravenclaw to win.

Pleased, George put a hand gently on CJ's shoulder and steered him towards the pitch, telling stories about the young, honorable Cedric. Eileen half skipped beside them, listening in on their conversation. George did just manage to get a glance at Michelle, and saw something in her eyes as he befriended young CJ, that gave him hope they might just be alright after all.

They caught up with Harry, Andromeda and Teddy by the fields. Harry tilted a head at him in question, and George gave him a bit of a nod to let him know that things had ended up alright after all. He started, quite naturally, to follow them to the stands, stopping only when little Eileen tugged at his robes.

"Sir…the Ravenclaw stands are this way." She said, quite apologetically.

"Oh, right." George felt strange heading away, and saw Harry laughing at him.

"So…ever tell the famous Harry Potter he has a book written about him?" Michelle whispered, as they found seats. George's blush was all the answer she needed. "I didn't think so. Your secret is safe with me."

George kept up the easy conversation with the two kids, while Michelle tried to calm an excitable Flitwick. He couldn't help but notice that CJ was already mightily attached to that charmed snitch. You would think he'd never gotten a gift before!

Then George realized he might not have, and felt sick.

"Next time you two…" He didn't want to make CJ uncomfortable. "Come round to the store, the one in Diagonal Alley, roust me up, and we'll see what else we have that you might use to prank my son."

Eileen gave him her best smile, and her eyes twinkled. "That would be brilliant, Sir. It's awfully hard to get the best of Alf; seems like he knows what we're planning before we do."

CJ's reaction was slightly different, as if he were fighting some internal war. Then, he admitted quietly. "I've never been in the store, Sir. I've seen the Hogsmead branch, but not the one in London."

"Never seen the store?" George was astounded; he'd not have thought there was a young witch or wizard in Great Britain who hadn't passed through his doors. "Well, we must remedy that some time. I am biased, I am afraid, but I don't think there is a more perfect place in this world than Weasleys' Wizzard Wheezes!"

Again, there was a strange look on CJ's face, and George guessed it must have something to do with his old man. Come to think of it, even before Amos went fully barmy he'd never come by; he guessed that the place must remind him in some way of Cedric.

He caught Michelle out of the corner of his eye looking down at her watch. "Match was supposed to have started five minutes ago." She murmured. Flitwick sent one of his prefects down to check to see what was going on.

CJ was looking over at the Gryffindor stands. "I don't like it." He said, finally. "Professor Morgainne seems awfully pleased with herself." The worry he let himself display touched George, and instinctively he squeezed the boy's shoulder.

The young Prefect returned, breathless with worry. "Sir." She spoke to her head of house. "Word is that Professor Morgainne has given Carini detention all day…he's in the dungeons with Filch, cleaning cauldrons."

This meant nothing to George, but he saw Flitwick nearly grow taller with anger, and Michelle looked extremely pissed. She turned to George, her arms folded across her chest. "Carini is normally Ravenclaw's starting keeper. That means…"

A booming voice announcing players suddenly filled the stadium. George could only stare in confusion as the players were announced…as usual, in the reverse order of their seniority.

"STARTING TODAY FOR RAVENCLAW AT KEEPER: ALFRED WEASLEY."

A memory of a soccer goal post, a nearly fatal save, and Alf in a hospital bed suddenly filled his mind, and George's world seemed to ebb away from him.


	9. Ch 9 Parent's Weekend II

"Breathe, Mr. Weasley." Michelle glanced at him, and then leaned closer. "He'll be fine, George. He wouldn't have made the team, even as a reserve, if he wasn't good enough."

"Right, right." George tried to do as Michelle instructed, but somehow drawing deep breaths was an impossibility.

An unknown Ravenclaw student behind them was overheard talking to his father. "Alf figured he made the team mostly because Darius felt so guilty about his being shunned the first week..."

_Shunned?_ George thought. _Guilt? What the..._

"...hope he doesn't suck. Guess we'll find out soon." The boy went on.

CJ and Eileen both turned to glare at the other student. "Stuff it, Harlan." Eileen spoke up vehemently. "Just because you fell off your broom in tryouts doesn't mean Alf doesn't deserve to be on the team."

Harlan spluttered in denial. "I didn't fall, I slipped...besides, it's a school broom...they're brutal to ride."

CJ snorted. "Alf's on a school broom too..." He watched as Alfred zoomed across the sky, a look of unreserved excitement on his face. "Doesn't seem to bother him too much."

George, meanwhile, had noticed Angelina...Michelle had conjured up a pair of omnoculars...and was concerned. His ex girlfriend was looking just a tad too smug about this whole thing. It seemed that wasn't unnoticed by the rest of Ravenclaw house either. "Professor Morgainne's practically salivating," an older boy said. "Ten to one says she hexes him like Snape did Harry Potter."

Eileen turned, hands balled into fists. "He _never _did any such thing!" CJ reached over to steady her, standing shoulder to shoulder. "Take it back." Her eyes blazed.

"Everyone knows Snape tried to kill Potter his first match." The boy countered. CJ grabbed Eileen, to prevent her from getting at her wand.

"Oi!" George turned, almost welcoming the diversion. "I was ON that Quidditch team, and it was Professor Quirrell who hexed him, not Severus Snape, although we didn't know that until later. And Quirrell did it because he was possessed by Voldemort. So stop going on about things you know nothing about!"

There was a stunned silence for a moment, and then the sheepish boy who'd made the mistake of opening his mouth, managed to find words. "Well, I guess even Professor Morgainne isn't _that_ bad." There was a burst of laughter, and George settled back down, patting Eileen Prince gently on the shoulder as he did so.

"Thank you." Eileen sniffed, trembling in anger still.

George leaned in computationally to her. "We didn't really much understand your cousin when we were in school, Eileen, but I know that Harry Potter won't hear a bad word said about him, and that's enough for me."

At that moment the whistle blew, and the game was on. George, who had forgotten to be nervous for a few moments, gripped the bottom of the bench to the point that he was afraid he might break fingers. Alf looked so _small_ out there, particularly next to the big brutes that Gryffindor was fielding...

Oops. Did he think that?

The Ravenclaw beater missed a bludger, which came at Alf at the same time as a Quaffle. George groaned and put his head in his hands, unable to watch.

"_Brilliant save by Alfred Weasley there...narrowly missing getting his head staved in at the same time..."_

George looked up quickly; Alf's hair was in all directions, but he was smiling brightly and scanning the pitch; the Quaffle was now down in the other end. The team Captain, Darius, was barking out orders.

"Smart." CJ said, with a tight grin. "Excellent strategy, actually."

"What?" George said, feeling nauseous.

"Look, Mr. Weasley!" CJ pointed out. "MacGreggor must have instructed his chasers to keep play in the Gryffindor end as much as possible. They're just tossing the quaffle out there for kicks. Makes sense."

"Oh!" George nodded, relieved. "Protect the rookie keeper...good idea indeed." Quite Ravenclaw, actually.

Michelle, American that she was, looked puzzled. "But don't they have to do some kind of, I don't know, kickoff or something?"

George felt rather superior suddenly, a refreshing change from countless baseball games. "Only if Ravenclaw scores do they go back to center. And they're not trying to score...they're going for ball control, and for their seeker to find the snitch first."

As excellent of a strategy as this was, it did make for a rather boring Quidditch match. Only once in the next forty-five minutes did Alf again have to make a save; getting the Quaffle to Darius MacGreggor with a sure, sharp throw, and immediately it was down in the next end.

Gryffindor was getting frustrated. Fouls were occurring at a fairly rapid pace now, but Ravenclaw had solid ball skills and it seemed MacGreggor was hell bent on not testing Alf more than necessary. In the Gryffindor stands George saw Angelina's frustration, and imagined that at this moment she'd like nothing more than to get up and grab a broom herself. Actually it wasn't far from how he was feeling at the moment. It was rather a startling realization; whatever else had passed between the two of them, they both still loved the game.

George came out of his wandering thoughts at a gasp from the crowd. The snitch had been spotted; both seekers were diving towards a particular spot in the sky. At the last minute the Ravenclaw seeker pulled aside; a bludger came from the Gryffindor beater, and both seekers spun away, the snitch once again gone from sight.

A sigh went up in the stands, and George finally felt safe to draw a full breath. "I might just have aged five years in the last five minutes." He admitted. Michelle gave him a brief smile. "But I should have known better. Alf is doing just…"

"THE GRYFFINDOR BEATERS ARE BREAKING FOR THE GOALIE!"

George felt his heart stop. Illegal, certainly; a penalty shot if either beater actually hit Alf But there it was; two charging, great hulks of beaters, controlling both bludgers back and forth with their bats. The skill it took just to do that might have caused George to tip his hat, if it weren't his _son_ that they were charging towards.

Behind them, a Gryffindor chaser blazed up with the Quaffle. In MacGreggor's hurry to protect Alf, they had lost control of the Quaffle. George groaned; if there was a Quaffle in the vicinity, the keeper became fair game. There wouldn't even be a penalty on the play, and probably not enough left of Alf to scrape up from the ground. Now, of course, Harry had managed to survive a couple of nasty falls in his day…but this wasn't Harry…it was Alf, and Alf had a way of finding accidents that wasn't to be believed!

_Duck, Alf…please duck…please don't try to be the hero here…please duck…please move out of the way…please come down safely on the ground…please don't try to be brave…please, please, please don't think you have anything to prove, to me or anyone else…please, Alf!_

In a move so well choreographed it would have gotten a perfect score from a Russian judge, both beaters aimed their bludgers with full force at Alf while the chaser launched the quaffle just behind it. Alf's best move was clearly to get the hell out of the way and give up the points on the throw; if they got the snitch, it wouldn't matter anyway.

Funny. As tight as their bond was, George rarely saw pure Fred in Alf's person. Bits of Fred, yes; but bits of Katie, too; bits of Arthur from time to time and even bits of George. But suddenly, as certainly as his hair was red, Alf just about became Fred. He saw _that_ light in Alf's eyes…the light that in Fred meant hell was about to break lose. He saw_ that_ grin, the one that didn't care about broken limbs, eternal detention, or Molly's wrath. And everything seemed to move in slow motion.; the arc of the quaffle…the path of the bludgers…a scream came from somewhere, high pitched and agonized, and George realized it was him.

In a move that Fred would have bowed down and worshiped, Alf flipped about on his broom, twisting sideways, and sank a quick five feet; the two bludgers collided with each other and recoiled a good fifty yards away from the force; at the same time Alf flipped upside down and with the tail of the broom deflected the Quaffle from its target.

A roar erupted from the crowd. The Ravenclaw stands went crazy; George put both hands on his head and beside him CJ and Eileen were jumping up and down like mad; across in the Gryffindor stands George noted Teddy also going wild and Harry, mouth agape, staring at his son amazed.

"AND ALFRED WEASLEY MAKES A SAVE FOR THE AGES FOLKS! THAT'S A MOVE WORTHY OF THE GREAT OLIVER WOOD…:"

Then, the anticlimax happened fast. A whistle blew, and with a smug smile the Gryffindor seeker came down to the ground. She'd caught the snitch; while all of Ravenclaw had been rushing to save Alf from attack, she'd been left alone to spot the darting ball, and had found her target unimpeded.

The air seemed to rush out of Ravenclaw just as suddenly as it came in, and George sank, weakly, back to his seat. "Aw…that doesn't seem right." Eileen shook her head. "Ravenclaw just outplayed them."

"That's what having a really top seeker can do." CJ said, nodding with admiration to the Gryffindor player. "They have one job, and the good ones never stray from that."

George was reliving, in perfect agony, that last save, only in his mind it didn't work. "I'm going to KILL him." He moaned, leaning over with his head in his hands.

"Are you sure you only aged _five_ years, Mr. Weasley?" Michelle teased. "Because you're looking closer to fifty than forty, at the moment."

CJ watched George, a serious look on his face. "Alf did his best, Sir." He said, quietly.

George didn't have time to digest why CJ would feel the need to tell him that; the crowd together was meeting down at the grounds, and Alf, having just shaken the other teams hands, was coming across to George looking rather dejected; George felt his heart melt at the deflation he saw in his eyes.

"Oi…where on earth did you learn to fly like that? You must have had one hell of a teacher!" George rubbed his dirty head affectionately, and more gently than perhaps normal.

Alf forced a smile. "My teacher was fine…somehow I got it in to my head to try some stupid hotdog move that distracted my own team!" He sighed, looking with disgust at his broom.

Eileen and CJ brought levity with them. "What's a hot dog?" They both asked simultaneously.

That made Alf chuckle a little; and on impulse George lifted Alf in to the air and swung him up on to his shoulders. "Dad…what the…c'mon, put me down."

"Not a chance, Alfred." George laughed up at him. "That's punishment for taking years from my life, flying like that!"

Alf matched his grin, but had begun to blush as some of his house-mates were watching them. "No, seriously, Dad…you can't carry me like this! I'm eleven years old!"

"No, really?" George got a gleam in his eye. "Well, then…" With a swift move he swooped Alf down and around him, earning a shriek of glee, before setting him down. "I suppose you're off the hook…but I reserve the right to torment you additionally later on!"

"And that's different from normal because?" Alf laughed back at him.

Professor Flitwick and a chagrinned looking Darius came up to them at that moment. Darius punched Alf gently in the shoulder. "Hell of a play there…too bad the rest of the team blew it…it deserved to be the game stopper."

George was looking at Darius

The tiny professor seemed quite content, despite the loss. "Well, this not without merit; we've learned two things…first, Gryffindor will be far tougher now that Professor Morgainne is head of house, and second, we don't have to spend our entire game protecting our keeper."

"Actually, was that play by Gryffindor even legal?" Alf turned to George. "It kind of surprised me…don't ask me how I survived it."

"I think something...or someone…just came over you, eh?" George tousled his hair again. "And yeah, it was legal, but just barely."

"Weasley." The entire group turned around to see Professor Morgainne approaching. She looked rather smug. "Interesting play. Quite as _flashy_ as something your father would have done."

Alf very calmly set his shoulders and met her eyes as he replied, "Thank you."

After an uncomfortable silence, she turned away. Flitwick watched her and said cryptically, "Poor child." George didn't ask; given Angelina's recent behavior he was in no mood to offer any kindness or sympathy for whatever was eating at her; there was simply no excuse for what she had done to both Alf and CJ.

Harry, Andromeda and Teddy had come around then, both burbling with excitement over the game, and together the small group headed back towards the castle; the four children tearing ahead, and the adults falling somewhat behind. Harry laughed to watch them. "Makes me feel fifteen years younger."

"That's interesting; George has aged considerably." Michelle quipped. Harry looked over at her, and gave her an approving smile.

"Sure, laugh all you want to…it won't be so funny when Teddy's on a house team, Harry." George said, glaring at them both.

As they reached the main building, Andromeda excused herself; she was not going to be staying overnight. As she and Harry walked a little away to speak with Teddy, Michelle grasped George's arm. "You scared CJ a bit, I think."

"Huh?" George looked, puzzled, over to where CJ, Eileen and Alf were chatting. Well, Eileen and Alf were chatting; CJ looked quietly worried, watching Alf intently. A change from how he had been during the game, for sure. "How?"

"You threatened to kill Alf." She looked at him and then, with a sigh. "After he made that play, you said, 'I am going to kill him.' I don't think CJ took that as an idle threat."

George balked slightly. "Good heavens, Shell…you know I wouldn't hurt Alfred. That's just a figure of speech."

"I know…but I don't think it's a figure of speech for CJ. He was quite intent in trying to explain to you that Alf had done his best." She sighed, and looked over to the kids; Teddy had rejoined them. "I can't imagine how lousy his base of reference is, George. And he's only going to believe you're not serious until Alf doesn't end up with bruises."

"And maybe not even then." George's voice was disgusted, thinking over Amos Diggory. "After all I have more than a few methods of hiding bruises at my disposal. I'll have to watch my words more carefully." He turned back to Michelle, and let his eyes meet hers. "Can you join us for dinner."

"Probably not a good idea…I need to be at the faculty table." She patted his arm; he wished she would kiss him again, even if it were only on the cheek, but he supposed that was more than he could have asked for. "Have fun with the boys."

George came up to the kids just as Harry returned, and made a point of squeezing Alf's shoulders affectionately. "Who's hungry?"

Alf smiled at him, and tugged his hand. "C'mon, you need to see our table."

CJ did relax a bit at the interaction, George noticed, and together the little group headed inside.

WWWWWWW

The students that night were camping under the "stars" in the Great Hall, just as a group of students once had during Harry's first year. Boys on one side, girls on the other; much to Eileen's disappointment. But Alf, Teddy, and CJ had scrapped a corner together, talking quietly over the events of the day, including George's reaction, respectively, to both Professors Fabry and Morgainne.

"I thought he did pretty well, considering." Teddy blushed. "I can't believe Morgainne said that to him."

"What?" CJ asked. Blushing, Alf repeated the "lovers" comment. CJ whistled low. "Blimey." He said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Um, your Dad's not mad at you for not telling him ahead of time, is he?" He asked, tentatively.

"Nah…he understands. I suppose I was being over protective of him; I was afraid the meeting would have gone much worse."

Conversation turned on other avenues, until Teddy nodded off first. Alf settled in himself; he was exhausted from his unexpected start; the adrenaline was starting to wear off. But CJ turned over to face him, his face veiled in shadows. "Alf…when your father is mad at you…what does he do?"

"Hm? Yells a lot, I guess." Alf yawned. "He doesn't get mad often, usually only when he's worried about me."

There was no response from CJ for a few seconds. "He was pretty upset after you made that play."

Alf chuckled. "I know…I heard him screaming like a girl from a hundred feet in the air. Like I said, when he gets overly worried he tends to vent a bit."

"Vent." CJ repeated. "By _yelling_."

"Yeah…he's pretty cool, really. Only one time I think I really pissed him off…blew up a lot of fireworks by accident…fortunately for me he has a long fuse. Didn't end up having to do more than clean the mess I'd made up, and help with redoing the stuff I'd destroyed." Alf yawned more forcefully. "M'glad you lot met up with him before the game, gave him a bit of distraction. Night, Ceej."

"Goodnight." CJ kept watching Alf quietly, until his friend fell asleep. Then he rolled over and stared, listlessly, at the stars, and wondered if _his_ father had ever worried about him.

WWWWWWW

George couldn't sleep.

The adults who had chosen to stay over had been encouraged to find spots within the four House dorms. The expectation with most was that they would go towards the house where they themselves had been; the muggles were paired with wizards so they would feel comfortable.

But George had opted to stay in Ravenclaw. For one thing, it was Alf's home now, and he wanted to see it, to know it in a way that made him picture it when Alf wrote him. But more importantly, Angelina would be in Gryffindor, and that just seemed bad on many levels.

But sleep wouldn't come. He was thinking about CJ at first, trying to come up with ways that would offer the poor kid some relief. He thought about Harry, having to go home where he wasn't wanted each break, and how hopeless Arthur and Molly had felt watching that happen. Perhaps George might have some more leeway with CJ; he certainly intended to try.

His thoughts then meandered over Alfred, how well he was doing after a rather rocky start. He replayed that keeper move in his mind, forcing himself to remember that Alf hadn't managed to get himself killed, and he chuckled lightly. Pure Fred it had been; even Angelina had noticed that.

Fred. And that, in the end, was the thought that had kept him up. The last time he'd been here was when Fred had been killed. The last time he roamed these halls with the sense of ownership the students had was when Fred had been very much alive, very much there. The emptiness nibbled at him as he heard laughter long gone filling his memories.

Finally, he got up. It wasn't like he was some kid risking detention. What were they going to do to him if they caught him roaming the halls after dark, make him clean cauldrons? He slipped past the door and into the hallways, and wandered as once he had with his brother, only without a map or a plan.

Although the plan may have existed, in the back of his mind. Because without even thinking about it, he ended up in the one hallway never rebuilt after the battle. The place, ironically, where Alf had found CJ after Professor Morgainne's assault. The place where Fred had died.

The hallway was cold. A pile of stones remained where once a wall had been; the exterior had been rebuilt, but the rubble remained, as a reminder of what had happened. Going towards a corner alcove, and sat down, pulling his knees tight against his chest. Here, his brother, his best friend, his other half, had laughed last; with Percy fighting by his side, he'd never known what had hit him. Literally. He pulled his robes around him tightly, and expected to cry, but he didn't. He just absorbed the place, the smell of it, the memory.

"Dad?" A tiny voice startled him. "You okay?"

"Alfred!" He gasped, surprised. "You shouldn't be out of bed…you could get in to a lot of trouble!" George would have gone to get up, but Alf came over and curled up beside him; with a sigh George wrapped his robes around his son and pulled him close.

"I wanted to be with you." He murmured. "I could sense that you were restless. I knew you'd be here." He nuzzled against George's chest sleepily. "Is this where?"

"Yeah." George answered. "This is where." He hugged Alfred close. "This is where."

The stones seemed to glow slightly, a magical trick that gave a minimal light to the hallways even in darkness. Somehow, to George it seemed they glowed more. Alfred's heart beat against his, and something filled him, then; a sense of peace, the presence of his brother in this place. Fred hadn't died, not really. His body was gone, but his spirit was very much there. Not in the pile of stones where he had died, but in the child he'd left behind.

Alf gave a half snore; George suppressed a giggle. He looked down at the boy, laying quite contentedly against him, sound asleep. He kissed the top of his head gently, and looked out over the stones once more. "Tried to kill me today, you did, Fred." He joked. "Taking over Alf's flying like that, decidedly not cool. But at least I know he's never really alone."

George then felt, despite the discomfort of his perch, sleep come over him. Leaning backwards, arms wrapped around Alfred, he wondered at the peace, at the love, but just a little. Fred had had so much love to give; it was not surprising.

WWWWWWW

Professor Morgainne had wandered herself into that lonely hallway, just after two a.m. It was where she came when she couldn't sleep. That night, though it had momentarily startled her, she was not surprised to see George Weasley there. It made perfect sense; he hadn't been back since the battle; just as she hadn't been back since then. She hadn't regretted that, though she was quickly regretting taking up this teaching job.

Angelina had shattered after the battle. She had made a conscious choice to push George away from her. Her grief and been raw and angry; and though she'd known she was ripping George's heart out, she felt it was necessary. A part of her had already given him up for dead the minute she'd heard about Fred; George and Fred apart was an impossibility, and she couldn't, couldn't bear to watch George die a long, slow, tortuous death from a broken heart. So with the harshest, cruelest words she could imagine she'd walked away from him. The words had been as untrue as they had been cruel, however; it had never been Fred she loved.

And yet, time had made her wonder if she'd understood love at all. When she'd met Matthias Morgainne, as she traveled to Uguanda offering her healing skills, she'd found passion. Occasionally a dream would remind her of George, and she would think of his memory with fondness. She'd told Matthias all about him, and though her husband had shaken her head at her method, he'd understood her. Understood that it would have killed her to sit back and watch George fade away.

She had always assumed George had died. It was the only possibility. She thought that she might name a son after him if she had one. Only, there was a horrible uprising in Uganda; her husband, a great healer and a man with a kind heart, had spoken vehemently for muggle rights, fought to keep the wizards there from fomenting the civil wars and strife that tore the country apart. Matthias had disappeared just over a year ago, imprisoned for his politics. And Angelina had been lost. When she'd heard about the potions opening here, it had seemed the easiest thing to do of all.

Of course, that was before she got here. Before she learned that George Weasley lived, against all odds and showing resilience that stunned her. And he was raising Fred's child. She had no child; she had only memories, just as she'd had when she left for Uganda. Every time she looked at Alfred, she wondered what might have been if she had never left, what George might have become, if they would have had children of their own. Of course she understood he would raise Alfred; she just couldn't believe that he could do it alone.

_He wasn't supposed to live without Fred. It shouldn't have been possible for him to be happy without me. He cannot have fallen for some cheap American witch. How could he have gone on like this?_

It quite escaped her, the fact that she herself had been happy, that she herself had gone on.

Now, George was here, where Fred had been killed, and she came forward, a part of her wanting to kiss him, to try and rekindle the love they had once had. Really, what she wanted to rekindle was her 17 year old self, long gone and distant.

She spotted, suddenly, Alf in George's arms. She smiled cruelly; here was her chance; child out of bed and all. Oh, she couldn't physically hurt him, but she could cost him precious points, make him lose face with his house, embarrass him totally. She wanted to do all of that, in fact; would enjoy it, enjoy making Alf suffer for making George happy.

But she didn't. Watching them sleep, a little bit of that seventeen-year old self came over her. She sighed quietly, and then turned on her heel and walked away.


	10. Ch10 Towards Christmas

The months following Parents Weekend passed strangely for George. He'd been overwhelmed by his trip back in time, to the last place his twin had drawn breath. But Alfred was fine, more than fine; thriving. The woman he loved had reappeared in his life in the least expected circumstances, and he was attempting to reaffirm a friendship with her in the hopes that it would become something more. And a woman who once broke his heart had reappeared as well, in the _same_ unexpected circumstances, and with less auspicious results.

It was just as well, he thought, that the store was as busy as it could be in the period between Halloween and Christmas, because he was beginning to think that was all that kept him from going insane.

But now, in a quiet few moments, he sat down to pen a brief letter to Michelle Fabry-_Professor Michelle Fabry-_ for that was they way they had settled in to getting reacquainted, into going forward with their lives.

_Michelle…_

_Wonderful as always to hear from you. I probably should not confess this, but your letters, and the antics of your students, have given me more than one idea for future products. Your fifth years attempting to use a hand mixer to make mashed potatoes provided a most lovely image in my mind. I think, perhaps, I shall test that one out on my mother._

_You asked me, last letter, how I ended up founding-or co-founding-a joke shop, as in America you saw me as a fairly serious bloke. It took me some time to think of an explanation, if only because the use of "serious" in the same sentence with a description of me, was so unexpected. Unless, of course, you were to consider Professor McGonagall telling Fred and I, for the one millionth time, that we were in serious trouble._

_What I have discovered, somewhat to my surprise, is that I have changed. Grown up, maybe, although I'd hate to think it. But as children, Fred and I found our niche in making other people laugh. It came easy to us, and I am sure that as a teacher you can understand a child's need to stand out in a large family. We were always bright enough, but we always channeled those brains into finding newer, better, and usually louder ways to amuse people. _

_And then you have to consider the times in which we were growing up. Voldemort's threat was growing greater every day. And as a Weasley, there was no way to stick our heads in the sand over it; our parents were active in the resistance (not that we knew that at first) and our kid brother's best friend was the child savior destined to destroy him. Of course, we just saw Harry as a second kid brother, but at the same time I think we always understood what he was up against. In a way, Fred and I often made him a special project…he had enough people either walking on eggshells around him, or tormenting him because of his being 'chosen'. Making Harry laugh became of supreme importance._

_And then he won the tri-wizard tournament…you'd have heard the story, I expect…and ended up with winnings he didn't want, didn't need, and which the Diggorys refused to accept. He gave it to us, which to this day our mother __**still**__ doesn't know, saying point blank to us that with Voldemort back we'd be needing a laugh. And so it began._

_Fred and I, as the stupidity of the ministry stepped up, mocked them. It was a joke…things like U-No-Poo couldn't be anything else…but it was something more at the same time. There was quite a bite behind what we were attempting…digging those we considered cowards, or fools. Satire, I suppose. If you ever look at some old photos of our shop from those days, I think you'd understand._

_But that isn't the George you met, anyway, back in Salem. I was more than ten years removed from the boy I had been when we founded the store. Not that the store is any less enjoyable to me, or that I consider it any less important. But overall I had become more aware, through tragedy, of how precious life is, and of how important family is. Because of Fred, I had to face a choice of going forward or giving in; because of my brother Ron I persevered._

_I don't think it will surprise you to know that it was Alf who was the most profoundly changing part of my life. At first, I guess, I saw him as bringing Fred back to me, but looking back over things, I know now that it wasn't long before I loved him entirely for who he was. And when I got to Salem, his life was threatened. If I seemed rather serious at times, it was because we were in a serious situation, one which I would have gladly laid down my life for him._

_But I learned so much about myself last year. What I could do, and what I want to be. Being the best possible father to Alf is my highest ambition right now, being good at that far more important to me than the greatest fireworks order I could ever receive. And where I want to be in the future…this is forward of me, considering how we're taking things, but I want you to be there, whatever that future is. No jokes this time._

_Anyway…now that I've probably ruined everything…I will end on a lighter note. I was overjoyed to see that Alf got himself detention for throwing the bat-bogey hex at a bully Slytherin. Oh, I know, as his father I've got to be all 'think of your consequences more carefully', but really! I expected no less of him than to defend CJ from a tormenting seventh year, and my sister will be overjoyed to know that the skill lives on._

_Well, glad to know you are keeping an eye out for him. Oh, and I am working with Dad to try and get Amos Diggory on assignment somewhere far, far away, so that we might have an excuse for having CJ with us at Christmas. It's worth a shot._

_Hoping to see you again soon…_

_George._

WWWWWWW

Alf came up to the old tree on the Hogwarts grounds, where CJ, Eileen and Teddy were already gathered. Teddy had conjured up an orb of heat-giving light that he'd learned from Aunt Hermione, for November had come with its usual chill. Behind Alf, he lugged a rather heavy book, fresh from the library.

"Tell me that's not, as Aunt Mi would say, a bit of light reading." Teddy teased, scooting aside to make room for him.

"It's survival research." Alf sighed, passing the book over. "A modern history of Uganda."

CJ snickered. "Just because Morgainne seems obsessed with letting us know what heinous punishments would be our fate if we were in school there doesn't mean becoming an expert on Uganda is going to help."

Alf shrugged, leaning in towards the fire. "Maybe, maybe not. It's not like I plan on contradicting her if I find out she _wouldn't _be allowed to beat us with iron-tipped reeds for missing the order of the ingredients on a basic warming potion." He nodded to the book, which Eileen was now flipping through. "But she brings it up so much I figured that she must have spent some time there…and if I understand her better maybe I can figure out a better way to manage her."

CJ and Teddy exchanged glances, and then it was Teddy who spoke. "She's still in love with your Dad, Alf. No book is going to help you handle that."

"So why does she hate CJ?" Alf countered. "Nobody has ever thought she might have been in love with Cedric. I'm telling you, it's deeper than that."

"Ravenclaw." CJ teased.

Alf stuck his chin out. "Proudly."

"And with good reason." It was Eileen who spoke, sitting upright and looking rather sad. "You're on to something, Alf. Look here…a photo of a leader of the Party For African Unity. A Wizard named Matthias Morgainne. And look who's in the photo with him."

Alf leaned in at once. "Her husband!" Alf's eyes widened. "Look here…he's mentioned as a nominee for the Bryce-Worthings award for magical-muggle cooperation. A peaceful leader well respected in the health communities, rumored to be working on the eradication of Spattergoit!"

"Wow." Eileen looked just a bit starry. "He sounds, well, he sounds pretty wonderful, actually. It doesn't sound like…well…I mean, why wouldn't she still love him?"

Teddy's eyes narrowed. "Not as nice as Uncle George…nobody could be as nice as Uncle George."

Alf laughed outright at Teddy's defense. "I don't want her still in love with Dad…I've got other preferences, in fact. And Eileen is right, he does sound like a pretty incredible wizard."

CJ was thinking, and his words came out carefully, thoughtfully. "Just because somebody appears nice and upstanding and wonderful, doesn't mean that they actually are. They could be very different behind closed doors.

Alf looked up at that, watching his friend, but Eileen didn't seem to notice. Stubbornly she'd taken the book back, and continued reading about Matthias Morgainne, turning the page. "Oh!" She raised her hands to her mouth and blinked rapidly.

"What?" The three boys asked at the same time.

"He's missing." She gasped. "There's a terrible, terrible wizard regime in control and they were threatened by him. He's feared imprisoned, but the way this book makes it sound, that's as good as dead."

There was a moment's silence, and then Alf gently took the book back from her and closed it. "Well…" He started. "Well…I guess I was right." He didn't sound particularly happy about it.

"Blimey." CJ rubbed at the back of his neck. "I don't like her any better, but I do kind of feel sorry for her."

"I don't." Teddy shot back, looking rather cross. "He's not dead. At least, not yet. Shouldn't she be fighting for him, or something? You don't walk away when someone you love needs you, you just don't."

Alf was surprised at how firm Teddy, the normally mild mannered Teddy, was. "You don't know what she might or might not have been able to do." He said, quietly.

Teddy shook his head. "My father would never, never have left my mother behind, nor she him. It's not like George going on after Fred, Alf, when he _knew_ Fred was gone. She should be fighting for him. She…is…a…GRYFFINDOR!" And suddenly Teddy stood up and stalked off.

"Geez." CJ watched him go off. "Didn't see that bothering him so much."

Alf rose also, and CJ and Eileen joined him. "I think, you know, it's his parents. Everyone kind of romanticizes Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. The Hufflepuff Auror who trusted enough to love a werewolf, the two who died together fighting for the good of wizard-kind." Alf had heard the fairy-tale aspect of it from his mother, before he knew it was real. "It's sounds corny, and it can't possibly be exactly like it happened, but that fairy-tale is all Ted has of his parents."

They walked together towards the hall. "I can relate, a little. Well, I guess we all can…we all lost people we never got to know. Even Eileen." CJ stuffed his hand in his pockets. "We need to find a way to cheer him up."

"What should we do, Alf?" Eileen tugged at him.

"Me? Why would I know?" Alf protested.

"A, you know him better than either of us, and B, making people laugh is in your blood, whether you like it or not." CJ teased him.

"I am no Weasley twin." Alf objected. "I mean, I'm smart enough, but I don't think I have the ability to be that sneaky…and no clue what we could all do together that would bring his spirits up…" A sudden light came to in Alf's eyes. "Although…" He stopped quite still. "Maybe…they joke about it…but I don't think they ever…and Uncle Harry would know…Dad would approve, surely…"

"Oh, Lord." CJ's eyes widened. "We created a monster, Eileen. Nothing good can come of this."

Eileen laughed, and hooked arms with both CJ and Alf, dragging both forward. "Whatever it is, it will be spectacular. Let's start planning over dinner, and see what we can come up with."

Alf's brain was still abuzz. Timing was everything in this instance, if they were going to get away with it…but it would give Teddy something to work towards, and also solve the question of what on earth to get his father for Christmas!

WWWWWWW

Michelle Fabry stood before her mirror, slowly taking out her favorite earrings, the ones George had given her last year. She's been out with a few other teachers, down to Hogsmeed for a pint and a bit of laughter. She liked her fellow teachers (except of course for one) and enjoyed the night out, but there was no question she would have liked to be there with someone else. With George, in fact. But she just wasn't sure how to go forward, how to even tell him that. And a part of her thought she was nuts for trusting him again.

But how were they supposed to find out if they could trust each other, simply from a bunch of _letters_?

So with rather mixed feelings, she sat down to write a return to the one she'd just received from him.

_George…_

_Thank you for your explanation of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It all makes sense now. And when I said that you seemed serious to me, I can honestly look back and realize that the seriousness was always about Alf. _

_I hope I didn't suggest that what you do is any kind of let-down. I love the shop…spent this evening browsing through the Hogsmead branch, in fact, and was beyond impressed with what you've done. And I could see on Parent's Weekend what good you do. _

_And then there's what you're trying to do for CJ. That's important, George, I can feel it, though I can't quite articulate why. But CJ has become a good friend to Alf, and I see him opening up each day. I am afraid of what it will do to him, to go back to his father and all that horror._

_Speaking of Alf, your progeny is up to something. For about a week now, I've been watching him and his troupe passing notes to each other, whispering and planning and scheming. I took a page from your book…I cornered him and asked him if what he was up to was either going to get him arrested or put somebody else in peril. He answered quite promptly that it wasn't going to do either, and I believe him. Notice he __**didn't **__protest._

_You mentioned, in passing, your plans for the future. For, if I can venture there, __**our**__ future. I am still scared, George, but can I say that I'd like to believe we have one? That we can regain what we had last year, but better? Better because it will be honest, this time._

_It's hard, now, though, while I am here and you are there. I would like to see you, perhaps over Christmas break. Perhaps we can manage a proper date, one that is not quite so much a disaster as our first real date back in Salem. Not that that one ended so badly, eh?_

_Anyway, it's late and I have papers to grade. But I think of you often (how can I not, when confronted daily with your miniature?). And I think that we might, just might, not be as far apart as we think we are._

_Missing you…_

_Michelle._

_WWWWWWW_

Alfred paused outside Professor Morgainne's office. He had detention, _again_. Third time this month, and for no good reason, either. Though all he ever had to do in detention was clean cauldrons…the Professor had been following all normal protocol, and even rarely took points from him. But she hated him, still…her eyes blazed with it every time she glanced at him. And though Alf felt he had some understanding of her now, he still wasn't always able to keep to such perfect behavior that she couldn't find an opening for needling him.

Now, it was just three days before the break, he had tests to study for, and a final plan to enact with his friends (ironically, it being the only thing he'd ever planned in his life which could merit a legitimate detention.) and the last thing he wanted to be doing tonight was sitting in the dungeons scrubbing.

Not much he could do about it, though, so when the professor answered his knock with a terse, "Enter, and you know the drill," he did as commanded, and without comment dug in to some particularly slimy basins needing to be cleaned.

The radio station was on in the background, coverage of a late season Quidditch match between the Hollyhead Harpies and a team from Sweden. Professor Morgainne was pacing as she listened, muttering under her breath in disgust or approval as the game marched on. It nearly made Alf smile, it was so unexpectedly human of her.

But smiling down here was an impossibility.

"Do you find something amusing, Mr. Weasley?" She snorted over at him.

"Not at all, Professor." He said immediately. "My Aunt used to play for the Harpies, you know."

He'd assumed that she did. Turns out she apparently had left for Nigeria pretty soon after abandoning George.

"Hermione Granger, play Quidditch?" Her scorn was dripping. "The Harpies could never have been that desperate."

"Aunt Ginny." He said, quickly. "I don't think I've ever seen Aunt Mi on a broom, even." Realizing he had been acting like he had something in common with this woman, he redoubled his work on the cauldron.

He felt her gaze on the back of his neck, burning him almost. He flushed, and wished he'd kept his mouth shut. He reached over for another scrubbing pad; he'd worn the one he was using out.

When she spoke, it was from right behind him, making him freeze. "You do not fear me, Mr. Weasley…I have tortured you once…and threatened you on more than one occasion."

Alf swallowed. "I don't think you'll do it again." And then, drawing a deep breath. "I don't understand why you did it once."

"Oh, and you know me so well." She was nearly on top of him; he could feel her breath. "Because your _father_ spoke of me so well."

Alf backed half a step away. "He did not, and I don't think you could expect him to." He measured his words carefully. "But I've read about your husband, and blood quills wouldn't seem to be his style."

Her eyes opened in shock, and then with abruptness she slapped him across the face, the sound ringing through the dungeon. Alf winced, rubbing the mark she'd no doubt left on his cheek, and didn't dare speak further.

She whirled away, and stood off to the side, her arms folded around her body; she stared into the fireplace, and Alf, gulping hard, returned to his work, blinking aside a few tears. So much for his grand idea of trying to identify with her.

To his surprise, she spoke. "I should not have done that. You are right, my husband would not have approved." She did not turn around. "And where did his kindness get him?" Her voice shook. "Prison…torture…probably dead. And where did it get me? Back to a life I ran from ten years ago, and for what?"

Alf wasn't sure if he should speak or not.

She came back up to him, and he stiffened.Unexpectedly, though, she had a pot of salve, and with firm but not rough grip she took his chin in her hand, and dabbed it on his cheek. "I am not doing this to hide evidence. But rather, to admit I should not have done it at all. Tell who you will, I will not deny it."

"I wasn't going to tell anybody." He said, thoughtfully. "You lost your temper. This wasn't like…last time."

She was watching him, studying him. "You look quite like Fred. And George, as well…though I was one of the few who could tell them apart. I expect you get tired of hearing that."

"No, actually. I grew up not looking like anyone else…until I found George…_my dad._" He insisted. "It was wonderful not feeling like I didn't belong anymore."

Professor Morgainne sighed, and took the sponge from his hand. "Katie should have told us…we'd have helped her. Even if she wasn't sure she'd be safe…we'd have helped." A spasm of pain filtered over her face. "We were close once, your mum and I. She'd hate me if she knew what I'd become." She threw the sponge across the dungeons. "Go, Mr. Weasley…go now, and don't let me see you again until class. I have had enough nostalgia for one evening."

Alf didn't need to be told twice. He took a deep breath as the door shut behind him, and wondered what in the hell had just happened. He wasn't sure if this made his future in potions better or not, but one thing was certain, Professor Morgainne was no gorgon. She was as human as human could be.

WWWWWWW

Fred Weasley was smirking quietly to himself, studying the monitor that showed him the lives being lived by his loved ones back in mortality. He lounged back in a surprisingly comfortable chair, his arms behind his head, as he studied Alf in high amusement.

Cedric Diggory arrived, coming in to his vision with the alacrity common in the waiting room. Fred turned from his viewing to look over to his new friend, one whom he had much more in common with in death than he ever had in life. "How's the ghosting, Ced?"

"Tricky." Cedric sank down next to him. "Your father has offered my Dad a plum assignment over Christmas that will take him to Figi. Of course, it's covert and there isn't a chance he could bring CJ with him."

"So, of course, CJ will be needing to stay with a buddy. Excellent, really…I never gave Dad enough credit for brains when I was alive." Fred looked Cedric fully in the face. "You still look worried, though?"

"My father's getting worse, Fred…even though I'm not quite sure what it is that he wants to do. And this trip to Figi…CJ would still be home for a good three days. And I'm not sure how Dad's going to react, exactly, to CJ being friends with Alf…" Cedric's eye caught the monitor. "Good lord, what is it that you're watching?"

"My progeny…and your brother…and their friends…getting up to some good old Weasley mischief!" Fred's eyes twinkled merrily.

Cedric paled. "What are they…no…no they're _not_!"

Fred chuckled. "They most assuredly are!"

Cedric leaned forward. "Didn't you and George…"

"Never."

"But I thought…"

"Everyone thought. But no."

Cedric's brow furrowed, and he put his head in his hands. "What if they get caught, Fred? What will happen to CJ? How could he do this?"

Fred turned back to him, smiling kindly. "If they are caught…and I don't think they will be, Alfred is infinitely smarter than I ever was…they will get detention. C'mon, Ced, it's a harmless prank. Surely even in all your Hufflepuff glory you pulled at least one prank in your life?"

Cedric's blank stare answered him, and Fred laughed out loud. "And here you are ghosting, sneaking, and manipulating the material world. I can't think of anything life less prepared you for."

Cedric gave in with a sigh. "Fortunately I've crossed paths with you, the afterlife's answer to a how-to manual for mischief." He looked up. "Look, they're going…they're getting away with it!" He relaxed.

"Brilliant." Fred watched as Eileen Prince performed a charm reducing their objects to something small enough to be carried in the sleeves of their robes. "I can't wait to see George's face when he unwraps it!"

"He won't be angry?" Cedric asked.

"Hm, point there…I don't think he will be, but I think he'll think he should be. I'll have to keep an eye on that. Alf is doing remarkably well, but he's still fragile in some moments." Fred nudged Cedric. "It's going to be a fun Christmas, for both of us."

WWWWWWW

CJ Diggory arrived home, having been picked up at Diagon Alley not by his father, but by a hired driver in a ministry car; once inside, he found Dixie, one of his loyal house elves, waiting for him. She smiled tremblingly up at him. "Master CJ had a good term at school, sir?"

"I did." He forced himself to smile, though he was worried at the entire way Dixie was holding herself. "Why did father not come?" He asked, trying to sound like he was only moderately curious instead of sickly afraid. It had been four months since he'd been subject to his father's torment, and he wasn't really looking forward to their reunion.

Dixie's hand wringing proved to him that he had cause for concern. "Mr. Amos, Sir, he said I was to pick you up and bring you home in the ministry car. Mr. Amos said he would speak to you when you got in."

"Speak. Right." CJ leaned against the tinted window of the hired car; just across the way he heard a laughter as Alfred Weasley hugged his father hard, saw George Weasley insist on attempting to pick Alf up, and jokingly make as if the boy were now too heavy. Blinking, he turned away. No point wishing for what you couldn't have.

WWWWWWW

Amos Diggory was waiting, calmly, in his den. He heard the car pull up; heard the house elf and his son come through the front door. And he heard CJ's approach, the boy seeming obedient. Amos, of course, knew the truth of it.

"You asked to see me, father?" CJ said, closing the door behind him; his face blank and his posture resigned. He might be disobedient, but he wasn't stupid, either. He knew what was coming.

"CRUCIATUS!" Amos yelled, thowing the curse at the boy with all the anger imaginable in a mad man.

CJ screamed, unbearable agony flinging him to the floor, writhing and twitching as the curse poured over him, red hot lavas of magical pain flowing through his very core. Amos held the curse over him for three straight minutes…to just before what he knew was CJ's tolerance before passing out, before ending it.

Then he strode over, and stood over his trembling, sobbing son. "Little bastard." He said, in a voice almost calm. "Befriending Alfred Weasley I hear. The son of your enemy…the son of MY enemy…the one I have trained you for years to hate…to scorn… and you take him to your bosom like a sworn friend. Why did I even sire you, to be so deceitful and false? CRUCIATUS!"

"Father…no…" CJ wailed, to no avail; the curse was held for another two minutes; again, Amos was well aware of CJ's limits; clearly he wanted to keep him conscious. "Well, what have you to say, boy?" Amos jeered, nudging the child with his foot. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, BETRAYING ME?"

"No…father…please…hear me…" CJ choked himself silent, stifling the sobs. "Please…I have not betrayed you…please…it's a plan…a plan…"

Amos held his wand at the ready. "A plan, boy…a plan? Speak, and tell me this plan of yours…or else you will be suffering pain you have yet to imagine."

CJ lifted his head, forcing himself to look up at his father. He called into play every Slytherin trait the sorting hat had traced in him. "Alfred…Alfred is George Weasley's son. You want me to destroy George…destroy the business…but I have to get close to him. I can't do it…from Hogwarts. I can't just walk in from the street some day. I have…have to be…cunning. If I can get close to Alf, then I can get close to George. Already Alf's father has met me, and he was…he seemed kind." Amos flushed, and CJ hurried on. "Of course I know what he really is, a thief and a charlatan, but I didn't let him see I knew that." CJ hiccupped once, and forced his pained body to rise up. "I can get close to them, father…I can learn how the shop works, I can _bring them down." _Amos thought over those words, and CJ gained courage. "And how much worse if George Weasley knows not just that I brought him down, but that I did it because of his own stupidity."

The words slid through Amos's warped brain, like oil on the coils of a snake. Slowly, with CJ's wary eyes not leaving his face, Amos lowered his wand arm. "It might work at that, boy. Yes, it might." Amos stroked his chin, eyes glinting with madness, and then lighting up. "Just how close are you to Alfred, boy?"

CJ gulped…this was one of those questions that clearly had no right answer. In which case, he might has well go for the truth. "I am one of his best friends." He hurried on. "Well, he _thinks_ I am one."

Amos's face was overcome with a grin. "That…that fits! I have been offered a post for the holidays in Figi…leaving in three days. But how could I have left my horrible, disobedient son alone in my house? But if I contact Arthur Weasley…now that I know how _close_ you are to Alfred, why you can stay with your friend, while I am gone? And press your advantage. Gather your information. Yes, it's _perfect._"

CJ couldn't believe it. How on earth could he be this lucky? He sank his weary, tormented body back on to the carpeting, and gave out a shaky sigh. He heard his father bark out a fire call; heard a voice called Arthur answering him back. He understood enough, though sleep was begging him to come calling, to know that he would, by this time tomorrow, be in George Weasley's household for the remainder of the holiday break. He fought to hold back tears of relief.

Short lived relief; a stripe of pain came over him; his father stood above him with a rattan cane, ready to strike again. CJ was too weak to even try to defend himself. "Father…" He whimpered, more a question than a plea.

"You must endear yourself to them. You're close now." With a swish, he struck again, and CJ screamed. "But if they feel sorry for you…if they see bruises…" He smiled devilishly. "They will try to keep you closer. And from there, you _strike_."

Amos swung the rattan again, and CJ felt the world spin away.


	11. Ch 11 Misunderstandings

George greeted Alf with a huge smile as he came in to the kitchen, one day home from Hogwarts. His son's hair was messy, his eyes still sleepy, and his robe looking rather worn from a semester of use away from home. He was the most beautiful thing George had ever seen.

"Oooh." Alf sat down at the table, and looked over the feast spread before him. "Crème Brule French toast and bacon!"

"_And_ orange juice." George said, pouring him a glass. "I figure you'd had just about enough pumpkin juice for a while."

"And then some." Alf drank deeply, wiped his mouth on a napkin and then looked up at his father with clearer eyes and a matching grin. "Can we go in to Diagon Alley today? I have some shopping I'd like to get done."

"Eat, you're losing weight." George nudged. "And yes, we can go shopping today...folks at the store would like to see you in any event, and I've just been informed that we need to lay in a few more presents for a rather unexpected visitor."

Alf looked curiously at his father. "Anyone I know?" He asked.

"Yes, in fact...Your grandfather just notified me that Amos Diggory has accepted a special assignment, leaving CJ without a place to stay." George refilled his coffee and helped himself to another plate of toast. "I assume you don't mind?"

Alf was astounded. "No, no...that's excellent, Dad. I just can't believe his Dad is letting him stay _here._ From what little CJ has let slip, it seemed like he was rather afraid his dad wouldn't even approve of our being friends." He dug in to his breakfast with excitement. "Wow, this is going to be fantastic. Might be a bit overwhelming for him, though...being around everyone."

"It might be overwhelming for _you_." George reminded him. "You've never yet seen the full Weasley clan assembled for Christmas. That morning at the Burrow limbs are likely to be lost in the package opening melee."

Alf was chewing thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. Placing his napkin neatly on his lap, he looked over at George. "I forget, sometimes, how little time we've really been together. Mostly it seems like forever." He matched George's gentle smile of assent. "But maybe everything that happened last year was for the best. I think I liked having that quiet Christmas with you last year."

"Me, too." George reached over and roughed his hair. "And as for presents, don't go overboard, particularly for me...I have enough having you here."

A devilish glint lip up Alf's eyes. "Oh, I _have_ your present already."

_Uh, oh_, George thought. _I know__** that**__ look._ "What are you up to, Alfred?" He asked, narrowing his eyes just slightly.

Alf gave him his most innocent look back. "I'm not up to anything." He replied, angelically.

"Okay, let me rephrase...what _were_ you up to?" George crossed his arms, all too well aware how the careful choice of words could turn lies into half truths. "And don't say nothing that Fred and I wouldn't have done, because I can assure you that will _not_ make me feel better."

Now Alf's looked turned somewhat cajoling. "I promise, nothing that put me or anyone else in danger. All perfectly harmless, really. C'mon, Dad, you know me...if I'd tried to do anything terrible, I'd have managed to hurt myself in the process."

"Very well." George thought over Michelle's last letter, which had indicated that Alf seemed to have some harmless prank up his sleeve. This must be related. "Just tell me it isn't anything that is going to put you back on the bad side of your potions professor." He refused to think of Angelina Johnson, as he used to know her, as the same person now tormenting his son.

"No..." Alf's voice trailed off thoughtfully. Catching George's concerned glance, he hurried on. "Definitely not. It's just...there's something about Professor Morgainne I think you should know."

George grasped the handle of his mug so tightly he thought it might shatter. "What did she do to you now?" He nearly hissed.

Alf immediately shook his head. "That's not what I mean. The lot of us...my friends, I mean...we discovered something about her past..."

George settled back in and looked over his son, as Alf carefully began to explain something about what had happened to Angelina Johnson in the years gone by.

WWWWWWW

That afternoon, after a morning of shopping together for various family members, George allowed Alf some time to run free with Teddy, admonishing them to stay out of Knockturn Alley. He rather thought he saw a glint of curiosity from Harry's god-son at that forbidden place, but Alf's answer was immediate. "No way I want to see that again, after last time." Alf responded immediately.

Alf had of course run afoul of the dark, deserted byway on his very first day being exposed to the world of magic. Clearly it had made an impression.

Ron watched as both boys darted off to shop. "Mum would never have let us to our own devices." He warned.

"She'd have let Bill, or Percy...or hell, Ginny." George pointed out. "Alf really isn't much like Fred or I that way. You, unfortunately, felt the brunt of being the son born closest to us."

Ron snorted. "Mum knew full well what she was doing, George. I wanted you lot to accept me so badly that I'd have swallowed whole dung-bombs if you'd dared me."

George gave a laugh, and then looked with approval around the store. It was, as expected once Hogwarts let out, teeming with shopping families, children running too and fro, older teens trying to sneak into restricted areas, fathers pretending to look stern while secretly delighting in creative products, harried mothers trying to keep track of them all. It made him happy, this place, in all its glory and at its high point. The store brought joy to thousands, millions, even, now that they had a thriving catalogue and export business.

"Thanks, Ron." George said, quietly. "For keeping everything going when I couldn't. And I'm not talking just about last year."

"Yeah, well..." Ron colored at the praise, and the sentiment. "Glad to have you back." And George understood that Ron wasn't just talking about last year, either.

Ron walked away to help a customer, and George began to contemplate what to get for CJ...the boy would have to have something to open up Christmas day. Mum, would no doubt make a sweater, but still...

"You've really done a remarkable job, George." A voice behind him spoke.

It was Angelina.

George, after Alf's tale of the morning, had a better understanding of her now. But he still wasn't quite willing to forgive and forget. Not what she'd done to him...that was water well under the bridge. But tormenting Alf in jealous spite, that still gnawed at him fiercely.

Her face was impassive, as only she could make it. George struggled to keep his the same way, but knew it wasn't much use; they'd had staring contests as kids, and George lost every single time. "Thank you. It wasn't easy, especially early on, but I had to keep going." He considered adding that it had been hard when he was alone, but, well, he never really had been alone, and he didn't want her thinking he still wished she'd never left.

She sighed, perhaps understanding the dig, and perhaps not quite sure even why she was here. "Can I speak to you for a minute, George...maybe at Fortescues? I understand his niece has reopened the place."

George hesitated. A part of him thought she deserved nothing more than for him to turn his back on her, but then he considered that Alf was still going to have to have her as a teacher. Besides, once they had been friends; a great deal more than that, actually, and George Weasley had never been one to turn his back on a friend. She did look like she could use one at the moment.

"Alright. I have to meet Alf back here at three, so you have an hour of my time."

WWWWWWW

In a way, George was grateful for the talk he'd had with Alf that morning. It saved a lot of explaining, some of which he wasn't sure he was ready to hear from her mouth. True, he no longer loved Angelina, but he was just a little proud, and it hurt to know it had taken her less than a year to replace him with another.

Especially when you considered that it had taken George ten years to move on.

They spoke generally, once George laid down what he knew on the table. They spoke of Oliver Wood and Alicia Spinnet, of Lee Jordan and others in their year, or close enough. It was safe a conversation, and one he wasn't sure why they were bothering with.

A silence came over them, as Angelina appeared to be focused on pulling up the last kiwi-raspberry sauce from her sundae. George took his chance. "Angelina...this is all very well and good, but I can't sit here and pretend that you haven't behaved the way to did to my son."

Her eyes flashed for a moment, and George felt his ire building, sensing the renewed accusation that Alf _wasn't_ his son. But Angelina's anger faded before her mouth opened, and she gave him a half nod. "It was...inexcusable. He made me see that...your son threw my own husband's human rights record back in my face." Her lips twisted. "First time I really saw him exhibit Gryffindor bravery, George...not to mention recklessness of some other Weasley's I've known." She sighed, then. "It was petty of me. But I looked at him, and I saw the child I might have had."

"With Fred." George was surprised that the ten year old slight actually still hurt him. "Fred's son." He added bitterly.

She raised her head to him. "No, George." She reached over and grasped his hand, taking him by surprise. "Not Fred's son. I looked at Alf and I thought this is the child we would have raised together, if I had stayed with you. With our own children as his younger siblings, in a house like one your parents had." Her fingers intertwined with his. "I lied to you, George. It was never Fred. I thought it would hurt you less if you believed that." She raised her eyes to meet his astonished glance. "It was always you." She whispered. "Maybe it still could be."

The seconds seemed to tick like an eternity. Angelina leaned in suddenly, and almost before he knew what was happening, she pulled him forward, and their lips met.

WWWWWWW

Alf was looking over a selection of pretty scarves, trying to pick one out for his Grandmother. It was agreed that he would buy only for his grand-parents, father, and friends; otherwise he'd have bankrupted himself. Arthur, of course, was easy; Alf had already found a muggle audio tape player...something totally junk in the muggle world nowadays...that he knew would keep his Grandfather amused for hours. Dad, of course, was taken care of, though he was a tad concerned about George's reaction, after that conversation at breakfast. He'd thought at first that George would be delighted, but more and more he was starting to worry.

Teddy broke him out of his thoughts. "We could just take a peak." He tugged at Alf's robe.

"Hm?" Alf looked away from the scarves, and then saw where his friend was pointing. Nocturn Alley. No way in hell was he risking it. "Not me, Teddy. I've seen the place, and there's _nothing_ good there." He shuddered, remembering the vicious cobblestones that had been spelled to attack unwanted customers.

Teddy was still looking longingly over at the dark, shadowy passage, curiosity struggling with his normally prudent nature. Alf pointedly turned away from him, picked up a spectacular scarf of purple and gold for Molly, and counted his money over carefully to the clerk. Grasping his package, he turned around to suggest that he and Ted go get an ice-cream, but Teddy wasn't there.

Alf clasped a hand to his head. "No, no he didn't…" he half moaned. Exiting the small store, he stood at the corner; just ahead was the dead end, hidden entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, and therefore Muggle London. And beyond that was the battered sign over the entry to Wizard London's most nefarious street. Teddy stood just in front of it.

Alf ran forward, calling, "Oi!" Teddy didn't turn at first, but then, with a stubborn determination, moved just his head to meet Alf's eye. "Teddy, DON'T. I won't go with you, you know. I'll…I'll…" God, he hated saying this. "I'll get my dad."

Teddy raised one eyebrow, and his hair went a blue-gray with spikes. He was feeling reckless. "Can't believe that coming from you, Alf. Not after last week."

Alf came up to Teddy, and tugged on his arm. "That was _different_. We weren't in any worse danger than getting detention, Teddy…it was a harmless lark. This place is _nasty_."

Teddy tugged away from him. "Coward!" And then, with narrowing, dark eyes, "No wonder you're not in Gryffindor."

That hurt; Teddy had clearly meant it to. Alf knew how to shoot back. "And clearly you're not _smart_ enough for Ravenclaw."

The two of them had never fought before; they stared at each other with angry glares, each silently daring the other to make the first move.

Teddy turned his back to Alf and took a step for Nocturn Alley.

Alf, with a disgusted sigh, turned around and ran to get George.

WWWWWWW

George pulled away from Angelina abrubtly. "WHAT are you doing?" He spluttered, somewhat indignantly, wiping raspberry sauce from his lips.

Angelina gave him a wavering smirk. "I know it's been ten years George, but surely you haven't forgotten. In fact, from what I've heard…"

"Stop!" He said sharply. He didn't care to know what she had heard, about him and Michelle, or about any other woman he'd dated in the past ten years. "You left me, Angelina. And you are married. And I am not the same man you walked away from." He pushed his chair back from the table. "You can't come in here and decide to toy with me because it's convenient for you. I deserve better than that. Come to think of it, I'm sure your husband does as well."

Angelina's eyes blazed at him. "Matthias is gone, George. He might as well be dead." She pointed out. "Is it so wrong for me to want to rekindle what we had."

George stood, throwing money down on the table. "Funny. Ten years ago you walked out on me, gave me up, because I was as good as dead to you, with Fred gone. Now you walk out on a man who you apparently loved because you've given him up as dead. Tell me why, in a crisis, I shouldn't expect you to run off again? Relationships are better or worse, Ange…it's not all sunshine and light. I came with you today because I heard how you had suffered, because I thought as a friend I could help. But I _don't know you." _He stood at the door to Fortescues; Angelina now refused to turn and look at him, and he shook his head, wondering at what she had become. "How you ever sorted into Gryffindor at all, I can't imagine, Ange. A Gryffindor doesn't cut and run when things get hard. You _fight_. You should be fighting for your husband now, in some way. You should have fought for me ten years ago."

Now she turned around. She had tears in her eyes, George regretted making her cry; his goal in life was to bring happiness, not sorrow. But her words were bitter enough to take his regret. "Katie ran too, George. If she were alive, would you say these things to her, because she left Fred?"

George bristled. "Katie didn't run from Fred; she ran _for_ the safety of her unborn child. She had a fight, and she knew where it had to focus. I didn't understand it at the time, and even now I might wish she had done things differently, but you can be damned sure I understand why she took those actions. What are you running to protect, Ange? Who are you trying to save, except yourself, from having to feel anything?" Running his hands through his hair, he gave her one last look, trying for the sake of the past to remember how she had been. "If you'd come to me to ask for help, asked me to find a way to recover your husband, I'd have done anything I could…any of the old lot would have. But not this, Ange. No, not this."

And with that, he stormed out of the ice-cream parlor and into the dusty street.

WWWWWWW

Alf had run blindly back towards the shop, where he expected George to be. He hardly registered seeing Miss…er…Professor Fabry passing him the other way, her face stony-angry and her arms wrapped tightly about herself. He'd have wondered normally, but no time now.

Alf skidded slightly just past Fortescue's. A shock of red hair was immediately identifiable in the window, and the absence of an ear made any question moot. So Dad was here…that made things quicker…

Alf gaped.

Dad. Kissing. Professor Morgainne.

Morgainne? The Gorgon? How _could_ he????????

Feeling rather nauseous, Alf backed away from the window, glad to not have been seen, and wishing he hadn't seen anything in return. He was going to puke.

A very faint yell came to his ears, not noticeable to most of the holiday revelers; shouts in the street were abundant at Christmas. But he knew Teddy's voice, and again, he smacked himself in the head. He couldn't leave Ted…those stones would nigh on break an ankle. But who was he supposed to go to for help? His Dad was _clearly_ otherwise occupied…

With resignation, he ran back to the alley, figuring on asking Teddy where about Uncle Harry could be found, and hoping his friend wouldn't be too stupidly stubborn to answer.

WWWWWWW

George left the store, and found a bench just a few blocks away, and sat down on it, putting his head in his hands. He still had ten minutes before going to meet Alf and he wanted to gather himself before his all-too prescient offspring could read his charged emotions. One thing he now knew…he no longer had any romantic feelings for Angelina.

The kiss had taken him by surprise, and at some level kissing Ange didn't entirely feel unnatural, but all the while his mind at been screaming alarms at him, about who she _wasn't_. She wasn't Michelle, and that was what mattered. It was Michelle he wanted to be kissing, under mistletoe, or anywhere else. Angelina was an old friend to him, and at the moment barely that. The past really was gone.

But the whole thing had unsettled him greatly. For her to suddenly claim that she really had loved him….what the hell had she been thinking ten years ago? He gave a little shake, and looked up.

Just in time to see a red-faced, livid Harry Potter dragging Alf and Teddy…Teddy was limping…by the collars of their coats. Teddy looked sheepish and in pain; Alf was clearly furious and glaring at Teddy.

What the hell?

"Guess where I found these two, George." Harry let go of Alf in front of George; Alf stood with his arms crossed, looking down at his feet, but more angry than anything else. "In Nocturn Alley."

WHAT?

George rose immediately, and looked down from one boy to the other. Teddy looked as if he wanted to speak but couldn't find a way to. Alf kept glancing at him as if waiting for him to speak, and getting angrier as he didn't.

"Alf was just at the beginning of the Alley, but Teddy was full in and had been pinned by those stones. I assume you told them not to go wandering in that particular direction?" George had never seen Harry so angry.

"I did." George felt his long fuse burning down quickly; he had to fight to keep from going completely mental. "And I had somebody's word…" He said, evenly and just holding in his anger, as he glared at Alf. "That they wouldn't go near the place. Somebody who _most assuredly ought to have known better." _George growled out the last words.

Alf did flush, and again he looked pointedly at Teddy; Teddy blinked and swallowed, but didn't speak. George continued on. "I cannot believe…that two days into vacation…you give me so little respect as this. This is serious, Alfred. You know how bad it is in there…WHAT WERE YOU THINING?" He yelled at the last, and then controlled himself, not wanting to cause a scene.

Alf looked over to Teddy, and George, channeling Molly, grabbed hold of his ear to turn him back around. Alf winced in surprise, and to George's shock gave him a seething glance in return, George ignored it and continued on. "Can you give me any good reason for what you did?" When Alf still didn't speak, George had to count to ten to control himself. "Alfred…this is no joke…Do you have any defense for disobeying me like this?"

Alf seemed to force himself to speak, and it was to the point. "No."

George knew that he wasn't in the best place mentally to continue this conversation, but he did anyway. "I cannot believe you can be so totally disrespectful, and would not have believed that I could be so disappointed in you. This was no harmless prank, Alf…you or Teddy could have been cursed or even killed in there. But it's worse that _you_ did this; you've _been _there before." George forced himself to stop; Alf was red faced and miserable, but clearly not ashamed. And he just couldn't keep going. He looked up at Harry. Without words they nodded to each other, and then each dragged off their respective offending children.

WWWWWWW

Michelle Fabry hadn't noticed Alf passing her. She hadn't seen a damned thing after she'd passed the ice-cream place and seen the man she loved kissing the person in the world that she most hated. The image of George and the former Angelina Johnson with their lips locked seemed to be burned into her brain.

She went in to the Leaky Cauldron, and ordered a fire-whiskey.

So…George and Angelina. Well, maybe they deserved each other. Both deceitful, treacherous, lying bastards. And hell, Angelina was a married woman!

She drained her glass and ordered another.

Rather hard for Alf, though, Michelle thought. Angelina's views on student discipline would no doubt prevail in the home as well. Poor kid isn't going to be happy about this. He was already a better man than his father was.

She tossed off half the glass, and then stared into its depths.

_Damn it all, NO_. She slammed it down on to the bar. _I am not going to sit back and let this happen!_

She crossed her arms in front of her. She remembered losing Tony…the fight that they had the night before he died. If he hadn't died, she'd have fought like hell to make him see sense. Probably wouldn't have worked, but she would have exhausted every effort to make it happen.

And she had never loved Tony half as much as she loved George. She could see that now…the difference between the childish romance and deep love. The one thing she regretted in her life now was not having found a way to fight for George back in Salem.

She needed to make George see that too. Because she knew, deep in her heart, George loved her. He'd just forgotten, or maybe he, too, had gotten caught up in a passing fancy, wondering what it would be like to rekindle an old flame. That wasn't totally shocking, she supposed; she understood there had been little closure when their relationship ended.

No, she was going to fight for George Weasley. Because he _was_ worth it. She was going to make sure he knew damned well the choices before him…someone who loved him enough to fight tooth and nail for him, or a flighty witch who would no doubt desert him at her earliest whim. If he chose badly…well, that was his mistake to make. But she wasn't going to let him make that mistake without a fight.

And as for Angelina?

Michelle finished her fire-whiskey, slapped her money on the bar, and rose proudly.

"Bring it on!"

WWWWWWW

Alf was quite too angry to actually respond to anything. He was beyond upset at his father, although not so much at the fact that he'd just been thoroughly chewed out. Obviously, if he had gone wandering into Nocturn Alley, after his father had quite specifically told him not to, he'd have deserved getting chewed out. But he hadn't gone willingly into that forbidden zone...he'd gone to seek out his father when Teddy was being stupid.

He bitterly remembered Teddy's speechlessness at the whole little scene. How could his so-called best friend let him get reamed out like that, when Teddy knew that Alf hadn't wanted one bit of the escapade. He'd only gone back because of Teddy's yelp of pain...that, and the fact that he'd been stunned at seeing his father sucking lips with his Potions professor.

Which is why he was pissed at George. How could the man...when he had a perfectly lovely, wonderful, sensible woman like Michelle Fabry...even consider getting back together with the woman who had once broken his heart, and had since assaulted his son? Bile rose up in his throat as he replayed the sight of his Dad and Professor Morgainne, over and over again. Miss Fabry was _cool_, Professor Morgainne was _cold_. How could he _do _something like that?

Some Christmas _this_ was going to turn out to be.

Of course, he knew he ought to defend himself. Since Teddy was showing no sign of telling the truth, he obviously ought to have informed his father how everything went down. He would not have disobeyed George, he knew Nocturn Ally was dangerous, and he _had_ gone for help. Trouble was, every time he tried to choke a word out he kept seeing that _sight_ in his mind of what he found when he went looking for help, and his stomach churned, and he wanted to say a whole bunch of terrible things about his Dad's choice that weren't exactly going to make anything better right now.

So he figured was best to wait until he could speak coherently. And probably, given how angry his father seemed to be, that was the best thing to do all around.

They arrived home in silence. George hadn't spoken to him since they had arrived at the store. He'd told Alf to go into his office and stay put until the day wrapped up; Alf had done as instructed, sulking moodily in a chair. When his father had finished work, he'd come in and coldly held out his hand; Alf took it and they flooed home.

Dusting off his robes, George released him, and now stared very seriously at Alf. Alf, still with sickening visions of Professor Morgainne as his _stepmother_ floating through his mind, stared stoically back. "Have you got _anything_ to say about what happened this afternoon?" George finally asked, clearly still seething.

He had a lot to say, but none of it did he trust himself to say without making things much, much worse. "No." He replied, and saw George's eyes glint dangerously. "Not right now." He added.

That seemed to make things a little better, but not much. "Very well. Until you decide you _do_ have something to say, you can go up to your room." His Dad turned away then, clearly very disappointed as much as angry, which hurt.

_He wants me to apologize...which doesn't seem right since I didn't disobey him...Uncle Harry found me just at the front of the Alley, and I was only there because I had to find some way to get Teddy out. _Alf scowled to himself, shutting the door (slamming seemed a very bad idea, however tempting) and throwing himself on the bed. _Alright...maybe I did disobey a little, but not for the reason he thinks I did...still, it's not so terrible, what I did. Not like cheating on your girlfriend...not like throwing a perfectly wonderful woman over for a miserable, cruel, undependable witch...not like taking up with a woman who was married! _Miserably Alf grabbed his pillow and rolled over against the wall, hating everything in the world.

Not quite everything...Rufus hopped up next to him, getting between Alf and the wall with a throaty purr. The cat reached a paw out to Alf's face, poking him gently. Alf tried to smile and bit off a sob. The animal came closer, and he nuzzled its fur, glad to know at least one creature in his life was making sense.

WWWWWWW

George got up early the next morning. Well, "got up" was really a misnomer, because it implied that he'd slept. Which he hadn't, not at all. He and Alf had never gone an entire night like this. But damned it all, the kid had screwed up...it happened...he didn't expect Alf to be perfect. What he did expect was for him to admit it, and to apologize. Why on earth was he being so damned stubborn? What was so hard about, "Sorry, Dad...I know I wasn't supposed to do it and it won't happen again?" Because as soon as he did that, they could have a conversation about everything that went on, why it went on, and get past it.

If Alf didn't apologize this morning...well, he didn't quite know what to do next!

The whole situation with Angelina wasn't making him any better. In fact, he was man enough to admit...and would, once Alf came to his senses...that his anger had been fed by the emotional turmoil caused by the stunt Angelina had pulled on him. If the situation had happened half an hour earlier, he'd have been angry, but he'd have never blown up like that.

The bell rang, and George looked up. With a start, he realized who it must be...CJ Diggory!

_Could this be any more awkward?_

Sighing, he went to the door and opened it.

Amos, larger than life and as jovial as George remembered, stood there. His smile was big, but there seemed that strange glint in his eye that George just didn't like. He remembered Michelle's suspicions and decided that the man really was too shifty by half. He smiled and nodded and watched him carefully even as Amos rattled on.

"...very kind of you, I'm sure, to taking the boy in like this. Hope he won't be too much of a bother...he tends to be a handful, but you have my permission to do whatever you need to, to keep him in line..."

_I will never, ever stoop to this man's levels. _George thought, feeling rather sick. He looked at CJ as Amos went on; CJ was reserved and guarded, standing stiffly by the side; George wanted to wink at him but didn't want to jeopardize the chance to keep CJ now and in the future.

"...well, I'm off...mind yourself, boy...I don't want to hear one bad word about you now..."

_You won't_. George promised himself.

"...Bye."

Before George even knew what was happening, he was gently steering CJ into the kitchen. The boy looked healthy enough, if a bit tired.

"Have you eaten anything, CJ?" George started. He was going to have to decide what to do for Alf's breakfast shortly, he realized.

"Thanks, but I'm not all that hungry ." CJ glanced around. "Is Alf still sleeping?"

George sighed. "Alf is, for lack of a better word, grounded for the moment. Something that happened yesterday." He patted CJ on the shoulder. "He's up in his room. Here..." He seized inspiration, and pulled some day old pastries out of the bread basket. "Take these on up with you. Maybe he'll tell you what's gnawing at him." It seemed rather cowardly, but maybe CJ could get Alf to be sensible.

"Oh." CJ looked surprised, and watched George carefully. "Um, this doesn't have anything to do with your Christmas present, does it?" He asked.

George blinked. "No..." He remembered his earlier conversation with Alf, from before the fight, and now he _was_ worried. He shook his head...Alf wouldn't have been buying his present in Nocturn Ally, would he have? Wait, he'd said he had it already. He shrugged. "I'll let Alf talk to you about it...go, eat...we'll plan some stuff later." He smiled encouragingly at CJ, though it felt rather forced.

CJ seemed to be studying him, as if trying to decide something. But the boy said nothing, he merely took the plate of food and went upstairs.

_Bloody awful start of Christmas this is turning into._ He thought miserably, then decided to make himself feel better by throwing together a few pies. Maybe he'd hunt out Michelle later and, under guise of giving her food, ask for her advice.

WWWWWWW

Alf, who was equally miserable as his father, not that either one knew it, had just resolved to go downstairs and speak with his Dad, finally feeling that he could trust himself to bring up what he'd seen without going crazy. He'd decided exactly what he was going to say, "Dad, I'm sorry I upset you, but can I tell you _exactly_ what happened?" George wasn't unreasonable, after all...he'd hear Alf out. He just wished he knew what the man would say when he told him about seeing him kissing Professor Morgainne. Still, it would start things going.

And then he heard CJ arrive, and cursed himself. He was beyond thrilled to know CJ was staying the holiday, but he rather wished that CJ hadn't arrived until tomorrow.

He waited upstairs, not hearing all the conversation, but surprised when CJ knocked on the door and came in bearing food.

"Hey." Alf said, managing a smile.

"Hey yourself." CJ replied, grimacing. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah...it's a stupid misunderstanding." And Alf, taking a croissant, started venting. But he didn't get past Teddy's insistence on venturing into the forbidden zone when he looked up...CJ had paled slightly and seemed to sway on his feet.

"Whoa!" Alf rushed over. "What happened? CJ, you look terrible!" He helped his friend over to the other twin bed.

CJ laid down with a sigh. "Ugh. My father..." He chewed his lower lip. "He tossed a glamour charm on me so I'd look good for long enough for him to drop me off, but..." A spasm of pain seemed to come over him. "God, it was a long ride in that ministry car..." He choked out.

Alf flushed, sitting down on the bed next to CJ. "Did he hit you?" Alf asked, something he'd never dared to question CJ on before. But memories, bad ones, of Michael O'Malley, still hung in his mind, and he wouldn't let that happen again.

"Hit?" CJ gave a snort of derision. "That's one way to put it...he beat the crap out of me, after he'd cursed me into oblivion. Used some kind of cane...I feel like my body's on fire." CJ paled, on seeing Alf's face. "Look, I'll be okay...it's happened before. I just need a bit of a lie in. Don't go telling your Dad , Alf...your Dad likes me, for reasons I don't understand. And I don't want him to stop... I can't have him thinking...Alf, please?" He pleaded.

Alf just stared back at him. "Ceej, you can't ask me to hide this. He can help you..."

CJ's eyes hardened. "Alf, you're my friend...don't do this to me."

Alf couldn't believe it. Yesterday Teddy tried to get him to disobey George, and now CJ wanted him to lie to him. Or as good as. But no...this couldn't be hidden. "I have to tell him, CJ."

CJ flushed and snarled, "Fine. I don't care." And he turned away towards the wall.

_This sucks._ Alf thought. But he headed deliberately downstairs to his father.


	12. Ch 12 Honesty

Hearing footsteps, Alf's footsteps, George marveled at how quickly young CJ had persuaded him. He set his face into a fairly stern look, he hoped...but not one of anger. And waited for Alf to get there.

The boy came up short, taking a look at his face. George could tell immediately that Alf hadn't slept so well, either, and that cheered him a little.

But what came next surprised him.

"I know we have to talk, but, Dad, CJ's hurt." Alf said, quickly.

George blinked. "What? He was just down here...what happened?" He asked.

"Glamour charm." Alf said at once. "His old man seems to have really worked him over...magically and muggle wise. He didn't want me to tell you...but I knew I had to."

George felt slightly sick. He was a modest healer at best. "Can you tell how bad?"

Alf seemed to consider that for a moment. "He told me his father cursed him and…" His son blanched and George automatically put a hand out to steady him. "Hit him with a cane."

"Okay." Well, looked like Michelle was right. "You did the right thing, telling me. He could be more hurt than he realizes." He squeezed Alf's shoulder; at this particular moment, Nocturn Alley didn't seem to matter much. "Let's go on upstairs…" George, with a wave of his wand, accio'd his basic healing supplies and steered his son towards the rooms.

"Dad…I think CJ believes that you'll think he's bad or something." Alf added. "I think that's why he didn't want me to tell you."

Right, that made sense…no doubt the kid's father had done his share of mental abuse over the years. "Well, we'll have to make him see that I haven't changed how I feel about him."

CJ was huddled in the corner when they came in. Alf stood off to the side, looking anxious; CJ did lift his head at Alf for just a second; George couldn't miss the withering glare, and Alf, with resignation, went and sat on the other bed.

"Easy now, CJ. Alf knows I can help you." George tried to sooth. CJ just shoved his head harder in the pillow. He sat on the edge of the bed beside the boy. "Let's start with the obvious stuff, hm? Can I see where you're hurt?"

A muffled sound that clearly seemed to be "No!" seemed to come from the pillow.

George very gently touched CJ's head. "I know you're embarrassed…but this isn't your fault, CJ." There was another, longer, mumble. "Sorry…didn't catch that one…my fault; my hearing is only half what it ought to be." He tried joking.

CJ stuck his head up. "Youshouldn'tbenicetomeI'materribleperson." He hiccupped. "Andifmyfatherfindsoutyouknow…" He paused, and tried to force his words out. "He'll…take…me…out…of …schoollllll." CJ's head slammed back in to the pillow.

"Ah." George eased him. "CJ, if I promise not to let your father know that I'm aware of what he's done, will you let me take a look at you?"

CJ gulped. "Promise?" He choked out.

"But Dad…" Alf started, but George quieted him with a glance.

"I promise, CJ. This stays in the room." George rubbed CJ's head gently, and in response the child began to lift up his shirt. George's nausea returned full force; Amos had absolutely brutalized his own son.

"Thanks, kiddo." George said, moving the shirt a bit further up. He rose to get some of those supplies and caught sight of Alf. His son's face was the color of skim milk. "Alf…" George kept his voice low, as he knelt before him. "Do me a favor, okay? I think CJ is a bit uncomfortable with you seeing this, and I don't think you're real happy about it either. There are some dishes downstairs…will you do them for me, please? I'll come down when I'm done here…and we can talk."

Alf nodded once. He reached over and gave George a quick hug, which George answered with a little extra squeeze, and the boy darted from the room. So he went ahead and gathered what he had, as well as a potion that should help the kid to sleep. That, more than anything, would be necessary right now.

WWWWWWW

An hour later, George came downstairs. He'd left CJ sound asleep, with most of the physical damage taken care of. The potion would keep him knocked out for a few hours, which should help with the effects of what he was afraid had been the cruciatus curse. Now he had to speak with Alf…about everything.

There was a part of him that just wanted to forget yesterday had ever happened. A big part of him, in fact. But that would be the easy way out. However much good Alf had done today, they still had to deal with his disobedience yesterday. George still wasn't quite sure _how_ he planned on dealing with it, but before he decided anything he needed to hear what, exactly, had happened, from Alf's point of view. Something just didn't make sense

He got downstairs, and discovered the dishes not only done and put away, but the pie ingredients that he'd just started getting ready when Alf had come to get him were now neatly measured and ready for him to prep. No sign of Alf, though; George worried for a second, and then remembered that nasty argument they'd had once back in Salem, and how George had feared Alf had run away. But he hadn't, and his son had made a point of saying that no matter how much trouble he was in, he never would. So George went on in to the living room.

In fact, Alf was there, on the sofa, head leaning against the arm, watching the magically twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. He didn't look happy, but whether from the conversation they needed to have, or the situation with CJ, George couldn't guess.

The boy looked up at him. "CJ okay?" He asked softly.

George came over and sat next to him. To his surprise, Alf leaned against him, although tentatively, as if he were afraid George wouldn't let him. George made a point of draping an arm gently over his son. "Not okay, exactly, but I did the best I could, and he's getting some much needed rest now."

Alf nodded. "Is he still mad at me?"

"He might be. But he'll come round." George promised. He took a deep breath, but before he could say anything to bring other subjects up, Alf took the lead. Although rather obliquely.

"Great. CJ's mad at me, I'm mad at Teddy…I'm glad Eileen's in America, I'd like to have one friend left by the time I get back to school."

Unexpected. "And before I guess wrongly, care to tell me _exactly_ why you're mad at Teddy?" He prodded.

Alf frowned. "Because he kept his mouth shut and left me hanging." He rubbed at his eyes, and then looked up at George. "Dad…" He paused.

George saw a war going on in his son's mind, but he really wasn't sure what over. "I'd like you to explain things to me from your perspective, Alf." He said.

"I want to…I'm just not sure…" He started chewing his lower lip, always a sign that Alf was wrangling over something monumental to him. George didn't try to force anything. He knew Alf when he got into these moods; he'd have to get this out in his own way. "Right. The first part is easy." He sighed. "I didn't want to go within ten feet of Nocturn Alley. I was buying Gram a scarf when I looked up and saw where Teddy had wandered off to. I went after him and caught up in that area by the Cauldron. We argued...he said he just wanted to look, and I told him if he did I'd leave him and go tell you what he was doing."

That was startling, and George felt a little relief. Alf at least didn't start out stupidly. "So Teddy called your bluff?"

"It _wasn't_ a bluff." Alf's face got slightly red, and he took a deep breath. "When he walked towards the Alley, I turned and ran to get you….but…" Alf looked downright angry for a few seconds, and he shook his head. "I can't…anyway…I heard him yell, after I'd run off, and I realized those stones must have gotten him. I went back to help him, but I stood on the fringe…I wanted to see if he knew where Uncle Harry was and I was going to go get him. Turns out Uncle Harry had been coming out of the Cauldron, and he heard Teddy too. Unfortunately found us."

"NOT unfortunately, Alf…something bad might have happened to him, even if you were trying to do the right thing." George felt half of the weight falling off of his back…the story made sense, and he was certain Alf was being honest with him. But half the weight remained…something had clearly been omitted from this story. "Alf…why on earth didn't you tell me this yesterday? Why was it so important that Teddy tell me? I would hope that you know me well enough to believe I'd listen to you." He looked straight in to Alf's eyes, trying to understand.

Those eyes went dark suddenly, dark and angry, and Alf's voice shook a bit as he tried to keep himself controlled. "I _couldn't _tell you yesterday, because I was afraid I'd say something really bad. So when I didn't, I thought Teddy _would_."

"Why would you say something bad?" George reached over to stroke Alf's head, and suddenly his son pulled away, crossing his arms in front of himself defensively. "Alf?" He asked, confused. "What's wrong? Will you _please_ tell me, because if you let me imagine it, it could get ugly."

Alf took a very deep breath. "Are you going to hook up Professor Morgainne?"

That took the wind right out of him. "WHAT?" He spluttered.

Alf was actually shaking, and the words burst out him, now that the dam had been broken. "_I saw you, Dad!_. When I went to get you, to tell you how stupid Teddy was being, _I saw you kissing her!_" The boy's chin jutted up. "How could you do that? I know I said she wasn't as inhuman as I thought she was…but that didn't mean I wanted you to get together with her. I mean, Dad, she's _married!_"

George ran his hands frantically through his hair. If he were watching this from outside, he would laugh, it was so funny. But living it, with his son having drawn all the wrong conclusions from Angelina's stunt…not funny at all! "Alf, listen to me…" He tried to calm the boy down.

"No, Dad!" Alf jumped up and started to pace. "I was so thrown by seeing you that I just couldn't…just couldn't talk to you. I can't believe that you'd rather have her than…than…" He shook his head furiously. "It will be terrible! She _hates_ me; she'll cause problems between us; heck, she's already caused problems between us! And then she'll turn around and break your heart again, and you don't deserve that, and I don't want to watch it happen!" Alf's lower lip was trembling now. "And I couldn't talk to you yesterday, because as upset as I am now is nothing compared to how I felt then…I just kept seeing the two of you…_kissing…_ugh!"

George jumped up and grabbed Alf's arms firmly. "ALFRED WEASLEY." He intoned sternly. Alf gulped and came still, looking up at him. "I swear to you, on the grave of my twin, that I am not dating, hooking up with, having an affair with, sneaking out with, exchanging spit with, or whatever way you kids are putting it now, Professor Morgainne." Before Alf could speak, George gently put a finger over his son's lips. "I know what you saw…and you were not nearly as surprised as I was. Come, Alf…let me tell you _my _story."

Alf, calming gradually, nodded, and they went back to sitting on the sofa, and George began speaking.

"I don't know why she did it. She came to the store and I thought she wanted just to talk. And remembering what you told me this morning, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Angelina and I had been friends once…and yes, we were more than friends. But I had no interest in that. Honestly? A big part of why I went to talk to her was knowing that she was your teacher, and you didn't need me to piss her off. So there we were, talking, and then she began to ramble about how it was really me she loved all along." George rubbed at his forehead, remembering the headache the whole thing had given him yesterday. "Then she kissed me."

Alf was watching him, his breathing now more steady. "Um…but you didn't exactly look like you minded."

Oh, God. Why had Alf happened to come looking for him at that moment? "Like I said, it took me by surprise. Alf, she and I did date once; there was a part of me…what's the muggle expression, that something is like riding a bicycle? Well, it was like all of our history came back, like I was twenty again for a minute." George sighed and leaned back. "But everything _you _thought of, came rushing back at _me_ ten fold. Firstly, I am not in love with her. I think you know full well I am in love with someone else. Secondly, she _is_ married, to somebody whom from all I have heard she loved back. Thirdly, she's running again…she ran from me when it got tough, and she's doing the same thing to him now. I am _not_ a fool, Alf. She's not exactly dependable. And, as you so aptly pointed out, she has not been kind to you, and I will not let anybody in my life who doesn't want you there too."

They were silent for a moment, staring at each other. Then Alf hugged him. "I'm sorry, Dad. I wouldn't have disobeyed you, although I guess I managed to anyway. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but honestly I just couldn't get the words out without losing it."

"I understand." George hugged him back, resting his chin on his head. "And I'm sorry I yelled at you like that. Part of why I got so angry was that I was really raw over what happened with Angelina, but it wasn't fair of me to go off at you."

They were interrupted by a tapping at the window; a snow white owl fluttered there with a letter. Harry's owl, George knew. He would never have one that wasn't snow white, like Hedwig had been. George rose and retrieved the letter, sliding it open. He gave a little sigh and a wry smile. "You can stop being angry at Teddy, Alf."

Alf came over to him. "Why? Did he tell Uncle Harry?"

"Yes, as soon as he could. Turns out that in the time you were finding me in a compromising position with your professor, Teddy got hit by a spell in Nocturn Alley that made it impossible for him to say anything he really wanted to say for twelve hours. Stray dark wizard didn't much care to be interrupted."

"Oh!" Alf felt hugely relieved. "I thought…we had said some ugly things before I went to get you; I thought he might have kept quiet to get back at me." Alf glanced at George. "Is he in much trouble?"

George looked over the letter. "He is grounded for the rest of vacation, Christmas day excepted. He's also got a broken ankle."

"Ah." Alf drew his shoulders up. "Am _I_ in much trouble?"

George's lips twitched slightly. "Not this time, I suppose." He relented. "Two things though, Alf. You knew what the right thing to do was; you need to trust me to be there for you, no matter what, like you did this morning. Got it?"

"Right." Alf nodded. "Um, and the second?"

George gently reached in to Alf's collar and pulled out the chain his son wore around his neck, the one that held a spelled coin. "You need to think, sometimes." George smirked. "You didn't need to go find Harry, even if you didn't want to actually talk to me at the moment."

"Oh." Alf blushed. "Um, I guess that wasn't real bright, was it?"

"I attribute it to the shock you had. I can understand, since I was in a fair amount of shock myself. But anyway…how do you feel about giving me a hand with these pies? I'm thinking of running one over to Michelle later…" He started steering Alf towards the kitchen, when the boy came to a dead stop. "Alf?"

"Oh, Dad!" Alf put his hands on his head. "I didn't think of it at the time…first I was so worried about Teddy, and after I was so flipped out by what I saw…oh, no!"

"What? Alf, you've got gray again…did you see your Uncle Ron kissing Romilda Vane?" George tried to lighten up the mood.

"Huh? Uh, no. I, um, passed Professor Fabry on the way to get you, and she looked really, really angry, but I didn't have time to process it. Dad, she was coming from the area of Fortescues. She must have seen…" Alf's voice trailed off.

He didn't need to continue. George's stomach sank to his toes. "Oh, no!" He repeated Alf's earlier lament. "She can't have!"

"I don't see how she could have missed it. You were right in the window." Alf pointed out.

They kept walking in to the kitchen, with George feeling exhausted. "Every time…every time I think I've gotten to a decent point with her where we can go forward, something stupid happens!" George tied on an apron, and looked listlessly around. "Stupid pies!" He moaned.

"They're not stupid." Alf nudged him. "C'mon, Gram is expecting one too, and, well, if you decide to bring one to Miss Fabry, well, at least now you're prepared when she throws it at you."

"But how do I even start to explain this? Look how much it upset you!" George started mashing sweet potato pulp.

"You just need to find a time to talk to her. Before Professor Morgainne does, preferably." Alf came up beside him, cracking eggs.

"Yeah, because she and I are so good at that." He sighed, then gave himself a little shake. "No, not this time. I am going to find her, and I am going to explain everything, and I will make her understand what happened." He paused. "Tomorrow's Christmas Eve…the Hogwarts faculty has a party in Hogsmeade, at the Three Broomsticks. I'll find her then."

"Won't professor Morgainne be there too?" Alf asked, pausing mid whisk.

George gave a knowing smile. "I imagine so. And I think I'd quite like her to hear what I have to say to Michelle. Because I plan on making it loud and clear."

"Well, you're clearly quite capable of the loud, at least." Alf ducked to evade the peel George threw at him, and they managed, if not a laugh, at least a smile.

WWWWWWW

"Ah, Michelle…there you are…I'd like you to meet a very dear friend of mine…" Minerva McGonagall approached Michelle Fabry in the great hall, a tall, round faced wizard with a genial smile at her side. "Neville Longbottom, this is Michelle Fabry; she teaches Muggle Studies and Advanced Healing…so no doubt you two will find much in common. Neville…" The headmistress beamed proudly, "Was one of the best Herbology students in the history of the school, and took a Master's level course at Oxford's Wizard branch. He's just interviewed for Professor Sprout's position, now that she's retiring."

"Ah…" Michelle held out her hand, which Neville shook enthusiastically. Probably fortunate for the young man that he didn't know she was well aware of his name. A rather pudgy, somewhat slow but affable Neville Longbottom had figured prominently in George's manuscript. "Pleased to meet you. Professor Sprout has been a joy to work with, but I know she's looking forward to a quiet life of _not_ gardening."

Neville smiled back at her. "And I'm pleased as well…too bad we didn't have a healing course when I was a student here, I could have used one."

"Potions." The headmistress said, sagely, and Neville answered with a good natured grin.

"I got better at them after I left school." He replied. "But true enough I'd have never qualified for Healing."

Minerva's attention was called away for a moment by Hagrid, who was still completing decorations for the Christmas feast, and Michelle turned back to the young wizard she'd just met. His entire aspect was agreeable. He also gave the impression of being larger than he actually was, she realized, because of his round face and wide smile.

It was funny to think of…she's read the news reports of the battle of Hogwarts. This young man, so basically pleasant, who had once been a rather clumsy boy, had also been a hero and a leader of the resistance against Hogwarts occupation. People, and what they could do when faced with a challenge, were really quite remarkable things.

"So…you'd be starting next fall, I assume?" Michelle asked.

"If I get the job." Neville modestly replied. "Yes. I hope I do; I had some great times in this place, and I love working with kids. And really, there's quite a remarkable hot house here; some really rare specimens…" He blushed and laughed. "Sorry…any of my friends will tell you that once you get me talking shop, I'm like a runaway train!"

She understood…she was the same way about teaching in general. "Well, I hope you do get the job…the last candidate I saw was cranky and about two hundred years old." Michelle wasn't even sure she was exaggerating the age. "One cranky professor here is enough." She added.

"Yeah, Professor McGonagall told me about Angelina…er, Professor Morgainne, that is. I was at school with her, you know, a few years behind." Neville nodded towards the hall that led to the Potions dungeon. "You know, Defense Against the Dark Arts _was_ a cursed position when I was here; I wonder now if the curse didn't spread to potions. At the least, the subject seems to bring out the worst in people."

Michelle raised her eyebrows. "I should warn you, then, that the niece of Professor Snape is currently attending school, first year."

"Ah…thanks." Neville rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I know Snape had a whole lot of issues…" He frowned. "Come to think of it…so does Angelina…" He came up short. "I was surprised when I saw her earlier that she was going to be at the Cauldron tonight."

"Pardon?" Michelle asked, confused. The faculty who resided in Castle over the holiday had an annual tradition of going to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, she knew, but that was tomorrow night. And Morgainne gave no indication that she was social at most times.

_Except in ice-cream shops in London._ She added mentally.

"Oh, sorry…a bunch of us who were at school together during the 'You Know Who Years' get together at the Leaky Cauldron." Neville rambled on, oblivious to her confusion. "The first Christmas after the war, Ron Weasley set it up…I think he wanted to get his brother George out of the house…he called it the 'We're all Through With You Know Who.' Each year one of us tries to out do that with a creative title…I can't wait to see what Ginny comes up with, it's her turn. Anyway, for the first time Professor Morgainne indicated she was going to be there, although I can't imagine why."

Funny. Michelle thought she knew _exactly_ why Angelina Johnson-Morgainne suddenly wanted to attend the little reunion!

Neville looked sheepish all at once. "And here I am, running off at the mouth about a bunch of people you don't know at all."

"Not exactly true." She said, managing a smile at him despite the vision that had just flitted through her mind. "I teach George Weasley's son, you know…and I taught him in America as well."

"Well, I feel better then…you must meet the Weasley's some time…terrific people. Haven't met young Alf yet; hear he's the spitting image of the twins…"

At that moment Minerva waved over to Neville, who made his excuses and left. Michelle was a tad relieved; he had clearly been nervous, and clearly when nervous, Neville talked. A lot.

Meanwhile, she returned to correcting exams, all the while wondering what Angelina was going to try to pull tonight. And how, exactly, was she going to counter it?

"So…did you like him?" The headmistress came up upon her quite suddenly.

"Um, yes, seems a nice guy." She said, puzzled. "A bit chatty."

"He's really quite brave, you know. I can't even begin to tell you what he did, organizing students into that resistance. Really came in to his own, then." Minerva played with her hat nervously, and a light bulb went off in Michelle's head.

"Oh, my God. We're you trying to set me up with him?" She sat back, mouth agape.

Minerva looked innocent. "Would I do something like that? Just because two of my favorite young people…" Michelle scoffed at the term young, though she blushed at the word favorite. "…happen to be single, and happen to both be teachers, potentially at least…and just because I happen to introduce them, doesn't mean I am setting them up."

"Right." Michelle smiled at her softly. "That explains why he was so nervous." She cleared her throat. "I like him as a friend already, Minerva…I can tell that much about him. But…I may be single, but I'm really not available."

"Ah." Minerva looked quite wise. "I was wondering. You sat with George Weasley during parent's day."

Now Michelle blushed more deeply. "We were friends in America."

"Friends. Quite." Minerva gave her what just might have been a discrete wink. "Unfortunate for Mr. Longbottom, but I understand. However." She fiddled with her sleeves, making a show of looking elsewhere. "If you are quite serious about not being available to others, I might suggest you make yourself clear to Mr. Weasley. I believe somebody else is doing the same thing."

"Hm. And as that somebody else is a former student of yours, just out of curiosity, which side would you be on?" Michelle honestly wondered.

"I am on the side that would make George Weasley happy." She said at once. "And although I think I might know which side that is, it doesn't mean that he's going to see that, unless you make him."

Without another word, Minerva McGonagall, who may have just given Michelle her blessing, glided out of the hall, singing the Hogwarts school song, at dirge melody.


	13. Ch 13 Going Forward

In the early afternoon, George found himself ambling over to Ginny's with a pie. CJ was still sleeping and Alf was cleaning up the kitchen, which he had near on insisted he do. George smirked...it was as if Alf had assigned himself the extra chores as punishment for their misunderstanding. Not fair on himself, really; George could hardly be surprised by Alf's reaction to what he had seen.

He walked in the door and was immediately greeted enthusiastically by a toddler in a playpen. "DORGE!". A red-haired little girl, nearly two years old, held her arms out with a beaming smile, her head turned slightly to the side and her eyes twinkling. "OUT, PEAS!"

"Good morning Miss Lily!" George smiled at his youngest niece. He placed the pie in a secure area in the kitchen, and came over to scoop her up. She giggled with glee as he swooped her towards the ceiling. "And how's my little princess this morning? Are we excited for Christmas? Are we?" He held her on his hip, and she laid her head against his shoulder, counting on her fingers.

"Two! More! Days!" She said, emphasizing each word.

A shout came from upstairs. "Albus! James! I thought you were wrapping presents, not each other!" He heard his sister's voice, in a cross between exasperation and amusement. With a swift thunder of footsteps, the boys came downstairs. "Uncle George!" Albus yelled, while James, more to the point, yelled, "Pie! You brought PIE!"

George laughed...he had to. Albus and James both were covered head to toe in ribbons and bows, and bits of paper wound round themselves in a taped patchwork. Lily clapped and laughed as well. "Me too...me too...I wanna be a present!"

Ginny came down, still shaking with laughter herself, kissed George on the cheek, and with just a few words and a wave of her wand, got the kitchen straightened up, and ushered all three kids into the playroom upstairs. "You can wrap Lily if you don't hurt her!" Ginny said.

"We won't hurt her!" Albus said.

"No way, mum!" James concurred. "She'll hex us if we do!"

Well, Lily was Ginny's daughter, that's for sure! George smirked, and went over to make a pot of coffee.

Ginny returned, smoothing her hair back. "Am I being really immature if I admit that I just considered letting the boys wrap me, too?"

George raised an eyebrow. "Don't tempt me, Gin." He warned. "Pie? I made like, twelve of them. Thought you could use a break."

Soon they were sitting down with coffee and pastry. Ginny rather gently asked about Alf. "I hope Harry's owl reached you in time?"

"In time for what, Gin? It wasn't like I was going to break his arm or something." George felt just a tad exasperated; then again, he had been pretty angry when Harry saw him last. "And what's with the Owl, anyway? We live all of fifty feet apart."

"Oh!" Ginny was startled. "Harry's in London, George. He'd brought Teddy back to Andromeda's house; this is her year to have him at Christmas. And he's got some business to take care of...he should make it back for the Cauldron, tonight."

George sputtered his coffee. He'd quite forgotten that this evening was the annual get together. Ginny saw that, too.

"You are going, aren't you, George?" She looked rather put out. "I put a lot of thought into this year's title and theme."

"I guess with all the drama yesterday, it slipped my mind. And I have to be in the store early tomorrow; Ron is taking Christmas Eve off since I took today..." Seeing Ginny's fierce glare, he stuttered out. "But of course I'll be there. I just have to decide what to do with the boys..."

"Boys? Oh, right...Harry mentioned that young Diggory was going to be spending the holiday. Well, if Alf isn't in trouble, and I assume he isn't, why not just have them come here? Charlie's going to be watching the kids."

George was surprised. "Charlie's in town? Last I heard he hadn't thought he'd make it for Christmas! And no, Alf's not in trouble, but CJ..." He paused, remembering his promise to the boy. "He's a bit under the weather."

"No reason he can't be under the weather here." She insisted. "C'mon, George...I think we've even talked Percy into coming out."

"No way!" Percy had refused to participate for years, saying it was a reunion of the kids between Ginny's year and George's, and that he wasn't in that group. Privately, George had always assumed that Percy was still harboring guilt for the whole ministry thing. But they were all adults now, and Percy ought to be there. With a start, George realized he _wanted_ Percy there. "You tell Percy, if it will help you seal the deal, that I am expecting him there, and if he isn't I'm taking away his Wo-Wo!"

"Heaven forbid!" Ginny laughed. They both looked at the pie again. "Oh, what the hell, as long as I save a few pieces for the kids..." She neatly sliced two more pieces with her wand, and shrugged. "It's Christmas."

WWWWWWW

CJ came gingerly down the stairs towards the kitchen. He had been surprised when he woke up that he wasn't really in pain, just a bit sore, as if he'd over-exerted himself. George Weasley had been amazingly kind to him, really; probably much more than he deserved. Actually, given the mission his father had sent him on, definitely more than he deserved.

He found Alf singing to himself with the radio, doing dishes. George was no where to be seen. "Um..." CJ cleared his throat. Alf turned around, startled, and the dish he was holding smashed to the floor. "Oh, hell!" He groaned. So much for George liking him. "That's my fault...I'll tell your dad it was me." He stammered out.

Alf blinked. "Or..." He said. "You could hand me that broom hanging on the wall over there, and we can clean it up, and let him fix it when he gets here. He won't be mad." Alf saw CJ's confusion. "He won't be, Ceej. It's just a dish. Now, if you were to tell him I broke it throwing it at you, that'd piss him off."

CJ came over with the broom, and stooped to help Alf with the job. "Sorry." He muttered. "Bout earlier, I mean. I just never wanted anybody to know. And it's not like anybody can help." He held a dustpan for CJ to sweep the debris together.

"Wizard laws suck." Alf said. "But my Dad will help any way he can, CJ. Even if it's just giving you a place to stay during the holidays."

CJ winced inwardly. Everything was happening exactly the way his father wanted. It seemed wrong. Still, it was Cedric's will as well...he was so confused about how this was going to resolve itself. Realizing Alf was watching him carefully, he rose, stretching tentatively. "You're not mad, then, at how I acted before?"

Alf leaned against the counter. "Look, CJ...the day my mum was buried, my step-father went off on me. Not as bad as what your Dad did, but bad enough. Then he put me on a train off to live with relatives I'd never met in a world I didn't know existed. And when I first met my Dad, it was beyond awkward. Anyway, that night, I remember being absolutely mortified when he found out what my step father had done. I sure as shite didn't want anyone _else_ to know about it; I thought it marked me as some terrible person, made me look bad." Alf shrugged. "Dad took care of me then...he'll always take care of me. But he understood how I was feeling, and, well, I understand you."

_Not as well as you think_. CJ held the dark thoughts inside. Then, he remembered something from before everything went out of control that morning. "Your Dad said you were grounded?" He used the word carefully.

"Huh...oh, I guess I was, sort of, when you came in..." Alf shrugged. "Dad and I worked everything out. Teddy screwed up, and I kind of got blamed, and then there was a misunderstanding..." Alf rattled off the whole sorry tale. It felt pretty insignificant now, after he'd seen what CJ's father had done, to have thought he was ever angry at George. He admitted as much when he got to the end. "This must sound stupid to you."

"No. Not stupid. If you were still angry at your Dad I'd say that was stupid. But..." He blushed. "Did it hurt much?"

"Did what?" Alf asked, totally puzzled.

"Being grounded." CJ thought it sounded terrible.

Alf just blinked at him for a moment, then realized what CJ meant. "It's more of a muggle term, CJ...in this case, it meant that I was confined to my room until Dad decided to let me out, or until I decided to explain myself to him."

CJ was confused, and then aghast. "But...you went to get him...you left the room without permission, to help me! That must have been _terrible_."

"No!" Alf put his hands on his head for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain this. "It's not a physical or magical punishment. There's no spells involved, nothing that was going to zap me for opening the door or something. He sent me to my room; I went. I stayed there until I was ready to talk to him. Now, what he'd have done if I had gone on being an idiot, I don't know..." Seeing that CJ was finally getting some idea of what had happened, and how it was totally foreign to him. "CJ, my dad has never really hurt me. We've had arguments, I've been in trouble, and he can yell the house down if he's worried about me. But he's never hit me." Alf looked out the window and saw his Dad approaching from Aunt Ginny's house, and smiled fondly. "He won't hurt you, either."

CJ felt a mix of relief and envy. And irony, too...who knew he'd been essentially grounded his whole life? Still, he was glad that Alf hadn't suffered on his account. "You're lucky." CJ said, with a sigh.

Alf looked over, and nodded. "I know."

WWWWWWW

George was in fact one of the first ones at the Leaky Cauldron that evening, which the group now formally rented as a private party each year. He stood there in the middle of the bar, half an hour before the official start time, and stared. "Bloody Brilliant Ginny!"

It was a sports theme this year, and an entire wall was dominated by a scoreboard. The home and visiting team were listed as Weasley Clan & Friends-47, Voldemort, 0. Beside the large, blazing numbers, a series of photos, of every child had by the various survivors of the war, flashed in sequence, starting with Teddy and ending with the most recent addition, Nina Corner, daughter of Michael Corner and Cho Chang. Alf's photo rotated in with the lot of them. Above it all was a banner: Our-Children-Will-Never-Know-You-Who!

Around the bar were more photos, active lots of kids smiling, laughing, waving, playing...in short, being kids. He found a personal favorite from this summer: him, on a broom with Alf, teaching him to fly; the excitement and joy shining on both of their faces. Beside that photo had been placed a photo of Fred, one that came out each year at the event, along with photos of the Lupins, of Colin Creevy, of others who had lost that fight. Fred's was festooned with magical silly string and flowers that bit your nose if you got too close.

For just one second he wondered if Ginny's scoreboard wasn't wrong, if it weren't more like 47 to 1, or 4, or...no. The scoreboard, he realized, celebrated life, not death. And looking around, at the buoyant happy faces of the children they'd sired, he found the proof that even those who died had, in a way, transcended death. Ginny came up beside him and put a drink in his hand, and they together raised it to Fred in silent toast. Then she whispered to him, "Harry just got here...he'd like to talk with you a bit."

"Course, Gin. Excellent work...going to be tough for somebody to top next year." He kissed her cheek. "Well done."

"I thought so." She smirked.

George found Harry at the bar, and hopped up on a stool next to him. His brother in law looked more relaxed than when he'd seen him last. "How's Teddy's ankle?"

"Mostly healed, fortunately. And I think _**you**_ managed to impress on him the vile dangers of the Alley enough to make sure he never ventures there again."

"Me?" George put his drink down, and half turned to Harry.

"Yeah...Teddy was more sick about getting Alf in trouble than he was about being in trouble himself. I don't think he'd ever seen you that angry." Harry gave George a questioning glance.

George sighed. "Alf and I are fine...he came and told me everything that happened this morning, before I got the owl. I'm glad of that, actually; you know, I think I'd have been angry that he hadn't told me if I had heard it from you first."

"So...why didn't he?" Harry asked.

George looked around the bar, and seeing the party still fairly empty, he leaned in and explained to Harry about Angelina. He trusted Harry with something like this; he might even trust Ron. But that was about all he'd care to share the story with.

"Ugh. Awkward. Do you think she'll come tonight?" Harry said, when George had finished the sorry tale.

George was taken aback; it had never occurred to him that Angelina would show up. He looked around once more; the party was still ten minutes to official arrival time, and just the few who'd helped Ginny with setup were there. "She never has, Harry, but if she thinks..." George shook his head. "She can't think...I was more than clear that I had no interest whatsoever."

"Well, my advice to you is keep drinking beer from a bottle." George's brow furrowed when Harry said that, and his brother in law continued. "She is a potion's master, George. A skilled one. And if Romilda Vane could work up a love potion her fifth year..."

"HELL, NO!" George spat out. He motioned to Tom. "A bottle of McGinnley's ale, no glass." He shuddered, and then cast a spell over the beverage, to make it impervious to anyone who wasn't him. "Good thinking, Harry."

"At your service." Harry gave him an encouraging smile. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about what I've been up to."

"Oh, right...Ginny said you'd gone to London on business?" George inquired. Harry's work with the ministry was often very secretive and usually George didn't try to pry information out of him.

"Not business, actually." Harry turned in the stool to face him. "After you came back from America, and told me about Dudley...well, Dudley and I started writing to each other."

"Excellent, Harry." George remembered Dudley well; how Harry's muggle cousin had ended up his neighbor in Salem. Although Vernon Dursley had still managed to screw up their lives, Dudley had come to their defense. And that was understandable...when you considered Dudley's son Harry showed distinctly wizard-like tendencies. "He seemed really relieved when I told him you were alive."

"Yeah. I can tell you now, George, I had a very hard time believing the story when you came back. I knew when I had last seen Dudley he hadn't been a complete ass, but it was making a major leap to have him become what you described." Harry shrugged slightly. "So I wrote him a short note at first, thanking him for giving you a hand and telling him how to reach me if he wanted. Well..." Harry laughed to himself. "He sent me back a seventeen page letter in return. A bit of a mish-mosh of what he'd been doing with his life, mixed in with questions about my life and repeated apologies for his behavior and wishing his parents had treated me better. A bit confusing, but his heart was in the right place."

"His heart _is_ in the right place, Harry." George said softly. "And people do change...look at Malfoy."

"Indeed." Harry took a handful of peanuts from the bowl and munched carefully. "Anyway, after that we've kept up with each other regularly, and he mentioned he'd be in London on business through today, so we got together. That's how I found the boys in the Alley, by the way...I was just coming out of the Leaky Cauldron when Alf went past me to assist Teddy."

"Did he bring your young name-sake with him?" George asked. "Alf was quite fond of the kid."

"No, but they're all going to come out for a visit round Easter." Harry said. "Dudley...quite rightly I think...wants the boy to be exposed to a bit of the muggle world so he doesn't feel so peculiar."

Several more folks had arrived during their conversation, and they both got up to mingle for a few minutes. George found himself looking over photos of Oliver Wood's kids...Angus, who he'd met on more than one occasion, and his newest addition, a year old daughter named Adriana. "And I hear your boy is like to break all my records at Hogwarts, eh?" Oliver nudged him, and George needed no further prodding to spend the next ten minutes bragging about Alfred, going as far as to do a physical imitation of that brilliant save...Harry wandered over to help him out.

"Hello, Gents." Ron came up to them, shaking snow off of his coat. "George, I know you had family issues to attend to, but if you ever leave me in the store two days before Christmas by myself again I will hunt you down and kill you."

"Bad idea, Ronnie. That would leave Alf with a two-thirds share, which would make him your boss." George quipped, then came to a complete stand still. Angelina Johnson was indeed there; wearing a red silk dress and tall black boots. Everyone was watching her, which she no doubt intended. Her eyes roamed the room proudly, and then met George's with defiance.

"Keep her..." He whispered, just loud enough for Harry and Ron to hear. "Away from me. Please."

That was all it took; an immediate line of defense was formed. There was always a Weasley there to pick her off and distract her, the minute she seemed to get too close. And to George's relief he saw Percy off in the back, looking at the scoreboard with amusement. Immediately George went over to him, and gave Perce a back slapping hug. "Can't believe we finally got you out to one of these."

"I almost came last year." He admitted, taking a beer that George offered. "Hey...why can't I drink from this?"

"Er...sorry..." George unprotected the bottle, but didn't explain. "So why didn't you?"

"You were in Salem, and I wanted to be here when you were here. Ron started doing this for you, you know...it seemed like I should have your blessing." Percy grabbed Ginny as she passed by, before George could respond to him. "Hey, Gin? Your numbers are wrong!"

"They are not!" She said, indignantly. "I checked the invite list and went over every single child...it's a firm 47."

"Better make that 47 and a half. Or thereabouts." Percy said, blushing just a bit.

It took Ginny and George a few seconds to catch on, and then they both grinned widely, offering congratulations. "When's Penny due?" Ginny asked, excitedly. "Oh, Mum will be over the moon!"

"End of May, looks like." Percy said. "I shouldn't say this, but I'm hoping for a boy...don't hex me, Gin!" He put his arms up defensively.

"I am not going to hex you, silly git. I think everyone should have at least one of each." She said, stoutly. And then she looked with emphasis on George. "Everyone!"

"Whoa!" George raised his hands in protest. "I'm at least one better than Charlie, Gin!"

"I'm not sure you get credit for that!" She pointed out.

George was about to protest, but Percy got his attention with a low whistle. "Who is she? I don't remember _her_ from school...and I think I would."

George looked over, and saw that a young woman had entered. She was more casual than Angelina; she was wearing well fitting jeans and a soft emerald green sweater that fit her perfectly and was cut low enough to be sexy without being desperate. Her hair flowed down, blown back just enough to show a pair of perfect gold earrings with emeralds in them. She looked around at the assembled people, most of whom were strangers to her. Then she saw George.

It was Michelle.

He nearly whimpered. He'd asked from protection from Angelina; he probably needed it more from Michelle, given what she'd apparently recently witnessed. True, he'd planned to have a long conversation with her, but not tonight!

She came forward confidently, and from George's view it was as if people parted for her, sensing not to get in her way. He had no idea where Angelina was, but he hoped it was way out of earshot. And he braced himself, certain she was going to slap him. Or hex him. Or worse.

Instead, she kissed him.

The second unexpected kiss he'd had in as many days, but the first one that was welcome. She brought passion and love, heat and sweetness into every bit of it, and he nearly melted to the floor. It wouldn't have been hard to forget where he was, except that after a startled moment many of his friends began to whistle and tease. He didn't care; he just wrapped his arms around her and prolonged the moment for as long as he could.

When she finally broke for air, she looked up at him with pure determination. "I love you, George Weasley. I have from almost the first moment I saw you. Fate brought us together when we didn't realize we were kindred spirits; when I nearly let you go once, fate intervened again. I'm not counting on fate being so kind a third time, so you listen good: I am not letting you go. I know that we belong together, and that you and I, and Alf, are destined to be a family. And if anybody...anybody else...thinks that I am just going to stand aside and let them use you, they are dead on wrong. I am fighting for you, George, fighting for our happiness and fighting for our future, and I play to win."

George felt like the world was spinning around. In a split second he realized that somehow, what she'd seen with Angelina hadn't pushed her a way; on the contrary, it seemed to have made her more determined than he'd ever seen!

"Okay." He said, sliding his arms down to her waist and pulling her close next to him.

"I'm serious, George, I...what?" She came to an abrupt stop.

"Game set and match, Michelle...or maybe ninth inning grand slam is more appropriate? If you want me, I'm yours...yesterday, now, forever." He dug into his shirt pocket, and removed the small item he'd been carrying around, in desperation, for six months. "Marry me?"

It was her turn to be shocked; she looked down to the ring, and then up at George in confusion. "But I saw..."

"A mirage. A memory. Doesn't matter. Certainly didn't to me." He said, quickly. "Hopefully this doesn't make me less desirable to you."

"Don't be stupid." She said, quickly. She was shaking as she let him pick up her hand and slide the ring on it. "And you just happened to have this here?"

"I've had this here...as close to my heart as it could get...since the picnic we never had. I've never given up. I never will. And I'm glad that you never will, either." He clasped her hand. "So...um...you haven't exactly answered?"

She beamed, and blinked as her eyes filled. "Yes." She said, almost shyly.

"Sorry...didn't hear that...not nearly as loud as the speech you made on your way in..." He teased.

"YES!" She yelled, throwing her arms around his neck. "YES, YES, YES, YES!!!!"

He swung her, lifting her into the air and turning her around, as applause broke out.

WWWWWWW

Alf and CJ were upstairs in the guest bedroom. Ginny's kids had been put to bed, after an exhaustive night of Uncle Charlie telling Dragon stories that had them mesmerized. Then, Charlie had worked on their wizard chess for hours, to their enthusiastic delight. But CJ was looking worn out, so Alf had told his Uncle that they were heading upstairs to turn in just after 11pm.

"You could have stayed up." CJ murmured.

Alf came over and handed him a potion that George had left in his care; CJ took it without question. "Not as your friend, I couldn't."

CJ relaxed immediately, after swallowing that draught. "That's nice...it's like it makes everything that tensed up give way." He sighed, easing down on to the bed. "Is there anything your dad can't do?"

"That's actually my Aunt Fleur's concoction. I've had it myself once or twice." Alf scooted in to the opposite bed, and leaned on his elbow to talk to CJ. "I've actually been thinking about maybe becoming a healer some day. What about you?"

"Dunno." CJ didn't want to admit that for most of his life he never considered the hope that he'd have a future. "I think I'm best at charms, but my father says that's useless stuff that has no future."

"Hmpf." Alf firmly decided that anything that Amos Diggory said wasn't worth listening too. "Charms was my Dad's best subject too, and look what he did with it! It's mostly charms, you know, that all the Weasley products are based on." Alf grinned over at CJ. "I can't believe you've never been there...tomorrow will be so great!"

CJ wasn't sure. He really did want to see the place, but given how his father had (literally) pounded in to him that he was only spawned as an instrument of the store's destruction, it frightened him as well. He almost wouldn't put it past the old man to have planted some kind of device in his brain that would blow up the first time he went inside. Still, there hadn't seemed a way to back out, when George had broadly hinted to Alf that he could use a bit of help on Christmas Eve, as Ronald Weasley was off that day. Alf did make it sound like fun, though; clearly it was one of his favorite places. "Tell me again about helping your Dad invent the Wo-Wo?"

Alf launched immediately into the tale, a remarkable one considering that at the time he knew little magic. CJ was really looking forward to those...they sounded spectacular. Then, unprompted, Alf began to tell him the story about "the worst trouble he'd ever been in." And CJ was amazed. He understood Alf's roiling emotions of that time-fear of rejection, of not really being wanted-too well. And he could see himself doing the same things, accidentally setting off a catastrophe while in a snit. Funny, but he'd never realized he'd have such things in common with his friend.

Until they got to how George handled the situation. That, of course, was where their paths split. He understood that Alf was trying, in his own way, to make him feel safe here. And that was working. But it also made him sad. Because he'd never had that sort of security with his father, and was pretty sure he never would.

CJ sighed, starting to feel tired. "Alf…tell me again what the store is like?" He murmured. "I want to dream about it."

Alf was more than happy to oblige, and CJ did dream about the store. Not the horrible dreams he'd had where he was trying to destroy it, but one where Alf's father was offering him a job, shaking his hand and welcoming him to the business. CJ was grown up now, looked a lot like his brother, even happy like Cedric always was in pictures. Alf was there, just as happy. He was getting married to Eileen, of course, everyone had always known that would happen. Teddy was towards the back, looking cool, as any curse breaker ought, and talking cozily with a pretty strawberry blond with silvery eyes. And he…well, CJ's girlfriend was beside him; dark hair and olive skin, she was short and strong and determined, and he loved her quite a lot.

Unlike most of his dreams, he found himself hoping it wouldn't end.

WWWWWWW

George held his hand out, leading Michelle through a thicket of trees. "Where are you taking me, crazy man!" She laughed, sounding reckless and very much alive.

"Sorry, can't hear you, wrong ear!" George laughed back, and then they broke through a clearing. "Ah, here we are!"

Before them lay a gleaming, solidly ice-covered pond, surrounded by almost picture-perfect woods. A slight dusting of snow was falling, and the moon hung full and round in the sky, lighting up the world. They were just a hundred yards from his home in Godric's Hollow; he'd found this place on his daily strolls months ago and it remained, as the season's changed, one of his favorite spots. "Fancy a bit of ice-skating, if you can transfigure these shoes?" He asked.

She smirked at him and raised her foot…she was one step ahead of him, again! "Care for me to take care of yours?" She asked. And with a wave, he too was in skates, and they stepped forward on to the pond.

They'd left the party about half an hour after she'd gotten there. It had been long enough for him to introduce her to Ginny, Percy, Ron and Hermione, and long enough to become really awkward with Angelina. George was sorry, but really, she'd brought this on herself. So they'd taken off, telling only Harry where they were going. Harry had looked so genuinely happy for him that George thought his brother-in-law would burst.

"I was coming after you, you know." George said, as they glided hand in hand round the ice. "I planned on heading you off at the faculty party tomorrow night."

"Neville Longbottom interviewed today, and let slip where you'd be. I was afraid of leaving you alone with Angelina another day. But I'd still like you to come with me to that, George; I think Minerva might like to congratulate us in person." She sighed. "Though it might be awkward with Morgainne."

"Might?" George laughed, then sobered up. "I'll fire chat with her tomorrow, Shell. I don't hate her; she was once a good friend, even before we mucked it up with dating. She is truly messed up right now." He felt a slight bit of nerves. "You do believe me, don't you, that I didn't invite her kiss?"

"I do…what you told me makes sense. That was what threw me most when I saw it." She squeezed his hand tight. "Poor Alf!"

George giggled. "I can't wait to tell him, Shell. He was so _indignant_ on your behalf, and because he was convinced Angelina would rip my heart out again. Quite old-fashioned of him, really. Does make things easier, though. He might even have been nervous of me marrying you, if not for this."

"Why would he be nervous? I thought he liked me?" She asked, surprised.

"He adores you. But he's had me to himself for a bit of time, now, and I bet he's still a little wary about potential siblings; scared I'd stop thinking of him as my son." George was glad to be able to tell her the things he couldn't a year ago. "Adults haven't been so dependable for him,"

"I see." She took a deep breath. "So you do want to have children, then?"

"Ten or twelve, I think." He laughed as she tried to stop and went thudding to the ice. "Kidding, kidding…yes, I'd like to have kids with you, and one or two would be lovely, if we're so lucky." He reached a hand to help her up, and she smirked and instead pulled him down on top of her.

It was quite a pleasant, if cold, few minutes, that they had with each other, before reluctantly rising.

Michelle looked at her watch. "I've got to go, George. I'll need to apparate now to get through the portal to Hogwarts in time."

George thought about his nearby, and empty, house. "You could stay." He offered, with just a hint of a wicked grin.

"Right. It's past midnight and you've got to be up at the store by 7am with two kids in tow. I think that wouldn't be best for either of us." She reached up to kiss him. "I will most definitely take a rain-check on that, though."

"We need to set a date." He murmured through their kisses.

"For the rain-check, or the wedding?" She teased, then transfigured their skates back in to shoes. "We'll figure out the date thing when I see you tomorrow. Does 5pm work? The party begins at 6. We don't have to stay long"

"It does, the store closes at 3…and I couldn't stay long; Mum will expect me home with the boys by 8; you will come with me, won't you?" He nuzzled her hair.

"Of course…although I am convinced your mother is going to hate me." She admitted the fear.

"Not more than anyone else who's ever dated one of her sons. Ginny has no idea how easy she had it." He quipped. "Oh, and…she'll expect us to stay in separate bedrooms."

"Also understood. I'm glad I know your Dad and Charlie at least; makes life easier." They had come through the clearing just beyond his house. "I love you, George Weasley."

"And I love you." He initiated the kiss that time, and broke it off only when he threatened to suffocate if he didn't. He watched, then, as she apparated, feeling a sense of blissful euphoria that made the whole world right.

WWWWWWW

Alf was feeling wired and restless. CJ was out cold now, breathing deeply and looking like he was enjoying nice dreams. Well, he deserved to. He, meanwhile, just had this feeling, like something was about to change; a feeling of a subtle shift in his world.

The coin he wore round his neck seemed to warm gently, and he smiled. He'd noticed, as he'd grown closer and closer to his Dad, that the spelled coin seemed to feel their bond. Sometimes he could almost sense what George was feeling through it. Like yesterday, when they'd been so angry at each other, he could feel the anger. On the one hand it hadn't been a great feeling, but on the other, it was a reminder that angry or not, their bond was still there. It was a strange thing; when George had burnt himself on a pie, he hadn't felt pain, so it didn't work quite that way. Just that there were times when George let his emotions, if they involved Alf, flow through. He meant to ask George if it worked that way for him as well.

Suddenly the coin seemed to glow. And he felt, for the second time that evening, pure happiness. His father, wherever he was at the moment, was experiencing joy. Great joy. And therefore, so was Alf. Nothing that made his father that happy could be bad.

The door shut downstairs, and he heard voices. Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry, and sounded like Uncle Ron and Aunt Mi, as well. Charlie's voice joined them. But strangely no George.

Quietly, and wishing he'd managed to sneak out some extendable ears, he stole out to the landing.

He could only pick up bits of sentences.

"Just one piece of pie before we go, eh, Mi?"

"George's pie? Absolutely."

"…can't believe it, after all this time…"

"Married! George!"

"…awfully fast, though. Mum's not going to approve…"

"Hush, Ron. Did you see…"

"Angelina. What she was wearing…"

"She definitely came with a purpose…"

"…I guess be careful what you wish for…"

"I think I'm still surprised…"

"…what was with the beer, anyway?"

"…love potion…"

"…so…do you think George is coming back tonight…"

Laughter at that.

"Mum will kill him if he doesn't make it for Christmas…"

More laughter.

"…kill him if he doesn't show up at the STORE!"

"…How do you think Alf will take it? Going to be hard on him…"

That was all Alf needed to hear. In shock, he crept back in to his room, and sat on his bed, his knees pulled up to his chest, chin resting on his folded arms, and he stared straight ahead.

_This isn't happening. Dad isn't going to marry her. He promised me he had no interest in her. He PROMISED! She tricked him. Must have. Uncle Harry said something about a love potion. Well, that could make Dad think he loved her, even if he didn't. It could! It could also make him forget everything else. Even Christmas. Even coming to pick us up tomorrow morning. Even that he loves me._

The old dream Alf had once had, that George would abandon him once married with his own kids, came back full force. No, no, no…couldn't happen. Couldn't. They'd talk tomorrow, like they always talked, like they had talked today, and it would be okay, it would, even if Angelina was going to be his stepmother. It would be okay! It would!

Alf laid down, and he was flooded with pain and fear. This wasn't happening, not happening, not happening. He would fall asleep and it would all be a dream, a bad one, and George would laugh at him and call him silly…a dream, a terrible dream, and then things would be normal.

A dream.

WWWWWWW

George came up short in the kitchen as he tidied up With a shock, he grabbed at the spelled coin he always carried with him. It had been acting strangely since Alf went to school. Faintly at first, and then more strongly, it would sometimes just shoot a little vibe to him, one that told him Alf was okay, but thinking of him. Inevitably a day later a letter would arrive, one that had a time on it of when the coin had acted up. And Alf would be writing with some problem, seeking advice, or with some exciting story he wanted to share. George just took it to show how strong their bond was.

Yesterday, though, when they'd both been so angry at each other, he could almost feel his son's ire through the thin bit of gold. It had startled him, although it was explained so perfectly this morning.

And now…why, now Alf was sad. Sad, and scared. Frighteningly so. The emotional pain his son was in at the moment rolled off of him, and he couldn't imagine what would cause it. He only knew that it was in some way concerned with him, and that he wanted it to end.

Immediately he grabbed his wand, and jogged lightly over to Harry's house.

WWWWWWW

The place was asleep. He made his way up the stairs with the stealth only a Weasley twin could own, and found himself in the guest room. CJ was sleeping soundly; Alf's face was contorted in pain and he was muttering in his sleep. What the hell?

Quickly he cast a silencing spell about them, and sat on the bed beside him. "Alf? Hey, Alf, wake up. It's your dad. You're dreaming, kiddo; wake up now. Please, Alf…"

Slowly blue eyes flickered open, and they lit up. "You're here!" He murmured. "I didn't think you were going to come back for me!"

George started at that. "Why on earth…" Then he saw that Alf was truly in a state of near terror, and he forgot about needing explanations. He immediately pulled him into his arms and hugged him tight.

Fred's voice seemed to come to him: _He's still a kid, George, for as grown up as he acts sometimes. He still gets scared. And he's still not wholly convinced that his wonderful life won't blow up in his face._

George began to rock Alf, who was shaking. "I'll always come for you, Alf, always, always…" He kept on murmuring. "I'm here, and it's all going to be okay."

"I won't be in the way." Alf said, shakily. "I'll try to get along with her…I know I said I didn't want you to, but if she really makes you happy, then I'll be good…" He mumbled in to George's chest.

_What the? _"Alf, did somebody tell you I'm getting married?" He asked, puzzled.

"I heard…when everyone came in…they said…they said they couldn't believe after all this time, that it was going to be hard on me. They said…"

"Shhh." George soothed. "You only heard half, Alf." Then he giggled at the way that came out. "Sorry. And here it is my job to hear half. I _am_ getting married…to Miss Fabry. She came by to tell me that she was going to fight tooth and nail for our happiness, and I asked her, and she said yes. I don't know what you heard, but considering most of them were rather tipsy and probably a bit incoherent, it was undoubtedly not the whole story. I am marrying Michelle. Michelle, not Angelina. And she specifically said that she planned on us…all three of us, being a family. I swear to you, Alf…Michelle."

Alf's breathing had come around slowly. He looked up at George. And remembering the swell of happiness he'd felt from the coin, and seeing the light on his father's face, he suddenly felt pretty foolish.

George sensed that at once and hugged him even closer. "It's all okay, Alf…given everything that's happened the past couple of days, not such a strange misunderstanding. I just need to know you're okay. I never want you to feel the way you just felt again, not ever."

Alf took a deep, shaking breath, and then sighed. "Sorry, Dad…I should have known. It's just after everything with CJ today, and our fight, and then hearing those things…"

"Shhhh." George leaned back on the bed, resigning himself to having to sleep right here. "You are okay with me marrying Michelle, aren't you?" He asked, wanting to make sure it really was okay.

Alf, in answer, squeezed George's hand. But he didn't need to say anything, really. Because as the nightmare faded from his son, George felt the fear fade from the coin, replaced by a quieter happiness. He was really going to be just fine. Come to think of it, they both were.


	14. Ch 14 Christmas I

Ginny Weasley walked with purpose towards The Burrow. Last night had been quite an achievement, really; it hadn't been easy for her to pull off all the photos, the signs, the invites. But it had all been gloriously upstaged by George and his now-fiancée, and she couldn't be more thrilled about it. Ginny had liked the woman immediately; she had _sense_. And she strongly suspected that she wasn't one to let anyone push her, or one of her loved ones, around.

Granted, when they had first heard the story of the mystery muggle woman George had fallen for in Salem, there had been concerns. Mainly, that she was muggle and lived in Salem. Charlie had liked her, of course, but Charlie's taste was not necessarily to be trusted. And then there was the awkward breakup, but Ginny had always been more understanding on that than most. After all, she was a woman, and if the man she loved had suddenly and mysteriously run off, she wouldn't have been happy either.

In any event, Michelle wasn't a muggle, had moved to England, and loved her brother enough to proclaim it in front of a room full of people she'd never before met. All of which was good enough for her. And Ginny was going to make damned sure it was good enough for everyone else.

She came through the back gardens, not even noticing that the lawn gnomes ran when they saw her coming, and strode in through the kitchen door. "Mum! I brought hibiscus jelly Danish...thought you could use a little tea break!" She called.

Molly came in from the other room, full of bustle. "Ginny, dear, how thoughtful of you...where are the kids?"

"Harry's got today off, which of course really means he's working harder than normal. I think he was going to take them sledding." She smirked, making tea. "Nice break for me, and for you too, in this case...those sweaters all ready?" She asked, with a sly smile.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about." Molly sat at the kitchen island, opening the bag Ginny had brought. "Pity you couldn't roust something up from George."

Ginny agreed. "He's at the store today, Mum...got his baking done yesterday, but all pies. I'm glad one of us has your culinary skills, and I'm equally glad it wasn't me...I hate the feel of flour on my hands!" Ginny glanced at her Mum with near innocence over the rim of her cup. "Quite an interesting evening at the Cauldron last night."

Molly glowed. "Penny owled me this morning to tell me! Isn't it just wonderful, another baby on the way! Why that will be number ten...not to bad at all, I must say...though a few more wouldn't be unwelcome!" She glanced with meaning at Ginny.

Ginny took the opportunity to work the subject where she was intending. "You know, Angelina Johnson showed up last night."

As expected, this set Molly off into a huffy frenzy. "That...woman!" She exhaled, and bit hard from the Danish. "I know I was angry at Katie Bell, but at least I can understand something you do to protect your child. What Angelina did to George...well, she has some nerve even showing up near him!"

Knowing full well what reaction she was eliciting, Ginny pressed on. "Especially now, after she tortured Alf."

"I...WHAT?" Molly, as Ginny expected, was completely unaware of what had happened. "Ginevra, how could she even get near him? And why...and what...don't just sit there...explain!"

Ginny was too happy to comply. "She's a professor at Hogwarts, mum...was apparently married so her name is changed. Anyway, she took an instant dislike to Alf, and as a way to torment George, no doubt, she used a blood quill on him. First day of school. Heinous, isn't it?"

Molly looked ready to kill. "Barbaric! I can't believe Minerva McGonagall would hire someone like that! What could poor Alfred possibly have done to make her do that to him?"

"He had the audacity to insist that he had the right to call George father. She took exception." Ginny sipped thoughtfully. "Which, after last night, makes everything quite interesting."

Molly blinked uncomprehendingly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it _was_ an interesting evening, Mum...lots of old friendships rekindled...and, well, surely you know...though it will be hard for Alf, I'm sure...but didn't George tell you...Mum, he got engaged last night." Ginny sat back and waited.

Molly's reaction was even more priceless than expected. She went pale first, then an ashen gray. "Nooo...Ginny, he wouldn't do that!" And before Ginny could say anything else, she marched over to the fireplace, and to her amusement, immediately called out, "Weasley Wizard Works, Main branch...private office!" Her barking voice shook slightly. A young witch Ginny didn't know responded, but before the poor kid could get a word out, Molly sputtered, "George Weasley, please...tell him it's his MOTHER!"

Oh, boy. Ginny grinned to herself privately. She had nothing but good intended from this, but if in the process she were to have a bit of sport with George, it was quite alright with her. In fact, she rather fancied Fred was laughing his arse off!

George, eyes wide with concern, appeared in the fireplace. "Mum? Is everything okay?"

"GEORGE WEASLEY!" Molly was in full howler mode, and George flinched back in the flames. "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? GETTING MARRIED TO THAT WOMAN!"

"Mum, who told you..." George started, but Molly was not to be put off.

"After she broke your heart like that...after what she did to ALF...ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! She's bewitched you...must have...Georgie, think clearly...Angelina can't be trusted, and I can't bear to see you hurt again!"

George huffed right back. "Oh for the love of...I AM NOT MARRYING ANGELINA JOHNSON. NOT NOW, NOT EVER, NOT EVEN IF I COULD, WHICH I CAN'T, BECAUSE SHE IS MARRIED ALREADY! AND EVEN IF SHE WEREN'T, I DO NOT LOVE HER! AM I CLEAR?"

Molly stepped back, George rarely, if ever, got so angry, and it was startling. "But Ginny said...George, are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure...now I have a store full of harried Christmas shoppers, I'm short on help, and I am trying to close up here at a decent hour. So I am going, Mum...any other accusations can wait for this evening! Good bye!" George's face disappeared with a puff and Molly, wide eyed and stunned, turned around.

"I never said..." Ginny raised an eyebrow. "That it was Angelina he was marrying. Did I fail to mention that his old girlfriend from Salem is actually a witch? And she teaches at Hogwarts? Oh, and she's the one who saved Alf from Angelina in the first place? She marched right in last night, when it became clear to her that Angelina was trying to get George back, and in front of all George's friends announced, to paraphrase, that she would fight to the death before she'd see George and Alf unhappy." Ginny calmly sipped her tea. "Quite a remarkable woman, really."

"I...what..." Molly sat weakly down, and Ginny refilled her tea cup. "Her name is Michelle, right?" She asked, looking perplexed. "And she really is a witch?"

"Quite a formidable one, would be my guess." Ginny passed another Danish to her mother. "Did you know, she was the one who saved Alf's life in Salem? She thought he and George were muggles, by the way...silly how such misunderstandings happen, isn't it?"

"Saved his life? She's a healer, then?" Molly murmured. Then she shook her head. "She followed George here? She likes Alf? She's going to stay in England?"

"Yes, to all of the above. Be a shame if she didn't have a sweater waiting for her tomorrow!" Ginny mused.

Molly, all aflutter, began to bustle back and forth. "Color, though...I don't know what color..."

Ginny smiled, her work here was done. "Green, I should say."

WWWWWWW

George stormed out of the office, nearly running over young CJ in the process. The boy took a step back and braced himself, and that, more effectively than anything, helped to calm George down.

"Are you okay, Mr. Weasley?" CJ asked, quite hesitantly.

"I will be, CJ...my mother does not always bring out my best side." George squeezed the boy's shoulder gently, and felt him relax. "Where's Alf?"

"He's on the third register...he's really good at it." Trace of envy there, George thought. "I feel pretty clumsy trying to use it."

"Not surprising...Alf's done this before, and the time to learn isn't in the middle of a holiday rush." George paused to point a customer in the right direction, and then looked down at his overwhelmed guest. "You know, it would be an enormous help to me if you went to the back storeroom and pulled out three boxes of the charmed candy canes. They seem to be practically disappearing off the shelves. You can find them in the third aisle from the back wall."

CJ nodded, a look of determination on his face. "I can do that, Sir."

George wiped his hands over his head as CJ left, trying to erase his conversation with his mother from his mind. What the heck had prompted that, anyway? And how was his sister involved? And, wait, somehow in that conversation, had he managed to not tell Mum he actually was engaged, just not to...

"Angelina!" George gasped, when he realized who'd walked up to him. _Oh, God, Not here, not here...she'll bring down the store. _He saw then that she'd been crying, and he was torn. "Ange, I'm sorry." Well, he _was_ sorry at how it went down, now that Michelle and he had finally put their lives together.

She managed a smile. "No, you're not...and you shouldn't be. You were right, George, right about everything you said too me and about me." A customer jostled her roughly, and George pulled her off towards the back office. He saw Alf catch his eye, and he thought desperately, _please trust me Alf. Please?_

Alf gave him a little nod, and a wry smile.

And then: _But I'm coming in after you if you're not out in ten minutes._

Funny. It wasn't exactly telepathy. But they certainly knew what was in each other's minds.

Once in the office, Angelina turned to him, but not with a kiss. She handed him an envelope. "My husband." She offered. "Everything I know about his situation, George. I know it's Christmas, I know you've got a wedding to plan. But you said if I'd come to you for help about Matthias, you'd be there. Well, I'm asking. Not today, not even tomorrow...but if you have any ideas..." Her face crumpled. "I do love him George. I do."

He reached over and gave her a hug, and she burst into tears on his shoulder. "I believe you must love him, Ange. I saw you once take a bludger to the stomach and not cry." He teased. "And I will help...and I'll call Oliver in on it too...we'll all help." He heard a commotion from outside. "Just not today, Ange." He groaned.

She laughed through her tears. "I know, George...And I'm not running any more. Not from this."

"Good job." George opened the door. "Will you be at the party tonight, Ange?"

"If I can convince your fiancée that I mean no harm." Angelina sighed. "I don't want things to be awkward."

_Fine time to think of that now. _An angry yell came to his ears. "Ange..."

"Go, George. Take care of what you need to. And thanks. For giving me what I really needed...the truth." She finished softly.

George answered with a lopsided grin, as he went back in to the store.

WWWWWWW

CJ looked proudly to George, who came up at the burst of verbal abuse that was getting spewed at him by the rather nasty looking kid he had in his grasp. "CJ? What's going on?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Shoplifter, Sir." He said. And then, moving the kid's robes, six or seven pygmy puffs escaped to freedom. "Caught him by the bins...he knocked over a box of VaniBrushes to distract me. Didn't work."

Just beyond George could hear the hairbrushes talking. "Why yes, you are lovely! Of course it's your natural color! A tad bit more curl would be perfect, you know!" Alf had come over to clean the mess up.

"Alright, kid..." George shook the robes out, and six or seven other items fell from them. "Real smart thing to do on Christmas Eve. You should thank CJ right now."

"Geroff." The glaring boy grumbled. "Not thanking that pratt!"

"You should." Alf came up next to them. "Because the door's spelled against shoplifters. If you'd made it outside, you'd have been stripped buck naked."

CJ groaned. "Wish you'd told me...I'd have let the kid get away."

At that moment, Marcus Flint appeared in the door. "Let Spartacus go, Weasley."

George managed a grim smile. "Gladly, Marcus, as long as we understand that he's not allowed in the store again. Or until he apologizes for his behavior and indicates he understands theft is wrong." 

Marcus snorted. "No son of mine is going to apologize to you. And what does it matter if you miss a few useless trinkets?"

CJ had packed up the Pygmy Puffs, who were shaking at having been nearly suffocated in those robes. These weren't useless trinkets; they were living creatures!

"Given your moral values, I'm not surprised." George shook his head. "Just go, and take him with you. Oh, and Merry Christmas, Flint."

Flint's rude gesture in return was not appropriate for children, so George was glad Alf had returned to the register. CJ, meanwhile, was looking with concern at the pygmy puffs. "This one's hurt, Sir." He said.

George came up beside him and looked down. Sure enough, the smallest puff, one that had a nice orange color, seemed to be having trouble recovering. "The puffs are very sensitive to moods, CJ. They can tell when one wants to harm them, and though they like riding, say, in your robe, cramming seven or eight of them together forcibly is bound to injure at least one. And they surely sensed the nefarious purpose they were being seized for. "

CJ looked at him, dark eyes quite sad. "Nefarious?" He asked.

George sighed. "I suspect that young Flint is behind a few stray-cat deaths we've had around here...and those cats were bated with poisoned puffs. We've missed a few in our stores before, but I could never catch him at it. Well done."

"Thanks." The tiny puff in his hand made an almost whimpering noise. "Can't we help it, Sir?"

George rather doubted it. The poor thing was most likely traumatized beyond hope. Still, looking at CJ, he decided to try. "Go sit in my office for a bit. It's quiet there, and warm. Hold him like you are now, and see if you can get him to eat. Here's a bit of celery...it's their favorite. But even if we can't cure him, you can at least be with him let him feel safe until...well, until there's no more need."

With a fathomless blink, CJ nodded once and did as George suggested. George turned about to Alf, who was cashing the last frantic customers. "CJ going to be okay, Dad? He looked pretty upset there."

"He doesn't like to see the innocent suffer." George said. "Not entirely surprising, I suppose. He'll take care of the poor thing." George half hugged his son. "And you're handling yourself excellently, and Angelina is not a problem. Remind me later to kill your Aunt Ginny, though."

"Got it." Alf paused to hand a customer change, then nudged his dad. "I'm sure you've thought of this, but as Professor Fabry is spending Christmas with us, you did get her a gift...right? Other than the ring, I mean..."

Oh, hell, no! George paled visibly, and Alf may have just smirked. "You've got an hour. Aurora can floor manage, Dad. And I'm fine. Go on...you can do this."

George tossed his Magenta work robes off and ran out the door in a dead sprint.

WWWWWWW

CJ waited in the office, enjoying the solitude, and resolutely trying to sooth the whimpering, shaking pygmy puff he'd named Tang.

He'd spent so much of his childhood alone, or with no more than his three house elves and a ghostly brother for company. Hogwarts had been a trial for him at first, and even more so this store. He'd loved it, loved the products and been awed by the sheer brilliance of George Weasley, but the holiday rush meant wall to wall people clamoring, talking, laughing, begging and borrowing, had really rattled him.

"There's a lot of people out there, Tang." He stroked the tiny ball of fluff, and held out a piece of celery. "I don't blame you for being a bit spooked by all the commotion. But you're safe with me. Promise. Please eat something...please?" Tang sniffed a tiny nose, and then dared a bit of celery. CJ felt like it was a huge victory.

"Can I tell you something, Tang? I really like this store." He whispered, and waited for the wrath of his father to somehow strike him dead. It didn't, and he felt safe to continue. "It's cool, Tang...all the crazy products and funny things, things to make people happy. I know my Dad thinks it came from my brother's blood money, but still, there could be a worse legacy to leave behind." He scratched behind Tang's ear, and was rewarded with a little purr. It was shaking less, too, which made CJ inordinately happy.

CJ smiled and yet felt sad all at once. When he was back in that store-room, for a second it was as if his father ruled his brains. He took one look at the cordoned off row of fireworks, and the incendiary supplies that were used to create them, and knew he'd found his starting point in how to bring the place down. A little planning, a little Slytherin cunning, and of course, gaining the trust of George Weasley; that was all it would take. Strangely, the part he'd have thought would be the hardest, getting close to the Weasleys, had ended up being the easiest.

Surely that isn't why Cedric had made sure he got to Hogwarts?

"I'll find a way out, Tang." He said, swallowing hard. "I don't want to hurt Alf and his Dad...I won't do it. There's got to be a way. I can put all that cunning to good use, too, not just bad."

Tang's purr become more pronounced. And with a surprisingly quick movement, the tiny creature scampered up into his pocket, sticking just his head out, and nuzzling against his chest. CJ fought not to giggle. "Hey, you're going to be alright, aren't you? I made you better. I did something right. Go figure." He leaned back in the chair, and sighed; if only his life could be this simple all the time.

WWWWWWW

Michelle had been feeling rather giddy all morning, like she didn't know what to do with herself. Then she'd realized that she had no gifts for anybody, so she'd torn out to Hogsmeade like a bat out of hell, hoping to find something, at least for George and Alf, and for his parents.

George had been easy; the latest and greatest cookbook, one which combined muggle and magic techniques, in addition to a self-cleaning apron. There was also a special photo album, one filled with muggle pictures from their year in Salem, including captions and anecdotes. Actually, she'd planned on giving him that when they finalized everything last June, and fortunately she hadn't destroyed it in a snit.

Alf, too, had been no problem...a special tabletop quidditch model, one that let you act out strategies with actual flying figurines, was perfect. And for Arthur there was muggle book on the middle ages...it really was a hoot at how wrong their historians got everything.

But George's Mum! Oh, lord, she was dead on terrified of the woman!

Not that she really knew so much about Molly. Mostly she'd picked up bits and pieces from conversations with Charlie, and Arthur, over the holidays last year. Of course, she didn't know Molly had been a wizard then. Since coming to Hogwarts, too, Molly had been the subject of stories from Minerva, Filius and Pomona...sometimes as a student, but mostly as a mother, and her fierce protectiveness of her kids was legendary.

Finally, in desperation, she found herself in a place that sold fabrics and yarns; Molly was, she'd heard, a prodigious knitter. Still, Michelle doubted she'd use a pattern book, or anything even resembling one; if she were that good at it, no pattern would be needed.

It was two thirty. Stores closed at 3pm. She'd have to break the engagement if she didn't find something soon!

Behind her, she could here the rather haughty store owner upbraiding another customer. "That's the price...ten galleons a skein. If you can find it at a better price, buy it...but don't count on finding it!"

Michelle was intrigued...what on earth could cost that much?

The owner saw her interest, and turned up her nose. "Hand combed wool from dwarf mammoths in Siberia." She sniffed. "Finer than the most expensive alpaca, and five times as rare. Shorn without damaging or traumatizing the heard, under full moon only. Color range is ice blue to battleship gray, variegated and naturally iridescent. Only the best, most experienced knitter would dare use it; it fights anyone without a natural knack."

Indeed, as Michelle reached to touch a skein, it backed away from her warily. She grinned. "I'll take the lot...that's ten skeins, right?" It totally blew her budget, but she had the money saved up and she couldn't think of a better gift.

The owner was reluctant. "You clearly don't know how to so much as cast on. This is not beginner's yarn to make a scarf with!"

"It isn't for me...it's for my future mother in law, and I have it on good authority that she's quite skilled!" Michelle informed her, counting out the necessary funds.

"And who, may I ask, are we talking about?" The woman insisted.

"Molly Weasley." Michelle said.

She needed to say no more. With her entire countenance melting into a beatific smile, the woman gently packaged the yarn, and gift wrapped it, after throwing in several notions as well. "What a wonderful, dear girl you are!" She beamed. "Molly is about the only person I know with the gifts to handle this...she should have an unlimited supply at her fingertips! Do tell her I'd love to see what she does with it! "

It was with an extra spring in her step that Michelle left, happy to have so completely nailed the gift.

So she was feeling perhaps more magnanimous than she ought to have when, no sooner had she stepped in to the staff lounge at Hogwarts, than she was facing Angelina Morgainne.

Then again, why shouldn't she feel magnanimous? She had George.

"If I congratulate you, will you believe I am sincere?" The other woman unexpectedly asked.

"Probably not." Michelle said promptly.

A sigh. "I can't blame you. What I did was wrong...to you and to George, and mostly to myself. If I told you that in some mixed up way I had come to believe that if I could get George back it would be like going back in time, and I would be as happy as I had been as a girl, would you believe that?"

Strangely, that she could believe. Michelle gave a slight incline of her head, and sat down on the small sofa in her office; Angelina took a chair opposite. Putting her head in her hands, Angelina continued, "I did try, you know...to get Matthias out of Uganda. But nobody there gives me any hope. I didn't know what else to do with myself than come back here. And with no hope, I clung to whatever I could. Even my memory of George."

"And now what?" Michelle finally said. "I know George has offered to help you if he could, but he didn't think you'd let him."

She gave a wan smile. "I changed my mind. After Christmas, he, and perhaps a few others of our old lot, will put their heads together. I have to know, you see...even if Matthias is dead...I can't go on like this."

"Of course you can't." Michelle remembered what it was like when George had simply disappeared. Of course, idiot that she was, she'd had an answer at her fingertips all along; it was not so easy for the woman before her. "Look, Angelina..." The name seemed strange to her, but she had to make the attempt. "To say we got off on the wrong foot is a huge understatement. But I don't want to see you suffer. And I know George doesn't want that either. Whatever assistance I can give, I will...and perhaps, someday, we can consider ourselves friends." She pursed her lips. "Though not quite yet."

"I understand. It's more than I deserve, really." She rose to go, and then looked back at her. "George is really lucky. But so are you."

Michelle watched her walk out of the room, and then shaking the slight gloom that had come over her, she rose to wrap her presents. She just might survive this holiday after all!


	15. Ch 15 Christmas II

Alf found himself and CJ in a corner of the Weasley living room with cups of mulled cider, enjoying a few moments of relative peace. Alf, in fact, had made a point of getting a hold of his Gram when they first arrived (Uncle Harry had picked them up from the store so Dad could go with Michelle to the Hogwarts faculty party) and mentioning that CJ might be a little overwhelmed. Gram, as could be expected, had immediately occupied the younger, wilder kids with baking cookies, and the adults had been milling about, getting rooms ready and presents completed.

"Is this everybody?" CJ mused, looking about with wonder. "I knew your family was big, but...wow."

"Uncle Bill's not here yet with his family...that's Aunt Fleur, Victoire and Ricky. And of course, Dad and Professor Fabry." Alf hoped they were having a good time, and that Professor Morgainne wasn't cutting up rough at all.

"What are you going to call her, once they get married?" CJ asked, curious.

Alf shook his head. "Not sure yet...was wondering that myself. Of course at school I'd still have to call her Professor...but it's hardly appropriate in other places. But everything else just seems weird. I'd feel funny calling her Mum, because my mother's only been gone a year and a half. She's closer, though, than an Aunt." Alf sighed. "And I guess if this is the worst problem I have, I'm lucky."

CJ was trying to entice Tang with another bit of celery... smiling as the little guy, after playing disinterested, quickly swiped the treat. "I can't believe your Dad is letting me keep him."

"I can't believe you tried to put him back!" Alf lightly punched CJ in the shoulder. It had been amusing, actually; when George had gotten the last guest out of the store and Uncle Harry'd come by to take them to The Burrow. CJ had come out, and without betraying a single emotion, he'd gone to put the little orange pygmy puff back. Tang had immediately whimpered and tried to crawl back up CJ's arm, and poor CJ had been nearly horrified.

"I didn't want your dad to think that I was trying to shoplift him." CJ blushed, and Alf rolled his eyes.

George had immediately come over, praised CJ profusely for managing to save Tang's life, and insisted Tang was now his. CJ had stuttered something about not having money to pay for him. For a second, Alf thought his father would go off in a good natured rant about the absurdity of CJ paying for a gift, but George must have thought better of it...the rant would have cajoled Alf out of awkwardness, but it was likely to send CJ diving under the table. So instead, Dad had solemnly insisted that CJ accept Tang as a reward for having caught the shop-lifter and thereby saving six other Puffs for inventory.

Rufus came over now, walking past the Christmas tree, pausing to swipe at a low hanging ornament, and then keeping on until he arrived in Alf's lap. Fortunately, Rufus seemed to not regard Tang as a plaything or food source. As a reward, Alf held out a small cat treat; Rufus sniffed delicately, thought about it, and then devoured the morsel almost without chewing.

Bill and his family arrived through the floo just then; CJ and Alf rose as they dusted off their robes, and he made quick introductions.

"Oooh...you have a Pygmy Puff!" Victoire cooed. CJ immediately pulled Tang out for her to get a look at; Alf was more than a little amused at how taken CJ seemed to be with his cousin. "May I hold him?"

It was not for another half an hour, once Victoire had decided she ought to be making cookies with the other kids, that Alf got a word with CJ again. "Her mother's part vela." He smirked at CJ's dumbfounded expression. "Victoire looks quite a bit like her. She's very sweet, and was very kind to me when I first showed up on the doorstep, so to speak."

CJ seemed to come out of his trance. "It isn't that...it's just...I've seen her before." He murmured.

Before Alf could question that, there was a knock at the door, and his Dad came in with his soon-to-be step mother, both of them looking radiant. Alf managed just a step forward, wondering why he suddenly felt so shy, when Molly bowled in to the room.

"Georgie!" She called out, smiling and laughing and wiping flour from her hands. "Oh, and you must be Michelle; I am so happy to meet you, you dear, dear girl!" And to the shock of the entire assembled family (save, strangely, Aunt Ginny), she engulfed Michelle in a sweeping hug.

"Er...um...Mum, yes, this is my fiancée." George stuttered out, catching Michelle's stunned glance as Molly continued to embrace her. "I see somebody did set you straight about that, eh?"

That got Molly off Michelle, as she turned and swatted at George repeatedly with the dish-towel she'd carried. "Yes, and no-thanks-to-you, Mr. I'm too good to tell my mother in person, I have to have my sister do it...badly!" And then she embraced George as well. "I don't know why you didn't tell me, you knew how happy I'd be!" She kissed him on the cheek, not noticing that George was carefully removing the dishtowel from her hand.

"I wanted to break it to Charlie, first." George teased. "Since he's now the only single one left." Alf came up to him and as they exchanged winks, took the towel away.

"Oi!" Charlie yelled from the back of the room. "Rub it in why don't you!"

WWWWWWW

George had to shake his head at how everything had turned out. Mum, apparently thanks to Ginny's machinations, already thought Michelle was the greatest living human being ever. But it had only gotten stranger as the night went on. The family laughed, decorated, joked, and ate from Molly's ample spread of food, and then Molly called him in to the kitchen to check the potato and leak soup she had bubbling on the oven as part of tomorrow's dinner.

"George, dear...it's missing something...be a love and take a taste? Everyone else just tells me it's fine."

Most of his siblings had stared at him in near terror; George had merely come forward and sipped from the soup. "Hm...it's good, but..."

"Lord, George is a dead man.!" Ron mumbled.

"A touch of dill, maybe? I find it brings a little brightness to potato dishes." George offered.

Molly beamed. "Excellent thought! Dill would be perfect, dear. I should have asked you to begin with." Molly reached over and kissed him on the cheek, then fumbled around for something. "Now where did I put down that towel?"

George had wisely left the room, only to have Michelle link her arm with his. "I never realized how close you were to your mother, George. It's really very sweet."

He almost laughed, and then realized how much there was about him that Michelle didn't know. Well, in Salem there had been reasons he couldn't tell her things...like the fact that because of a misunderstood prophesy his mother had convinced him she just about hated him, until last year. Like that at one point Molly had angled to get custody of Alf away from him. Like that she once pretended to blame George for Fred's death.

Well, clearly tonight wasn't the time for telling her all the little things. They would have to discover things about each other as they went on.

Like, for instance, that Michelle was an enormous fan of Celestina Warbeck.

THAT had come out when Molly went through her annual play list, towards the end of the evening. Most of them humored them; Ginny used it as an excuse to put her kids to bed, and Fleur decided Ginny must need help. And Michelle...his fiancée...had said, "Oooh, I _love _this song."

Charlie had smacked George hard up side the head. "Can't believe you told her to do that!" He groaned. "Making the rest of us look bad!"

"I didn't." George blinked.

Well, as fate would have it, the woman he loved, had grown up with an Aunt who'd actually known Celestina Warbeck! They had gone to school together, or some such nonsense. In any event, to Michelle, the singer who had been an instrument of torture to him as a child, was instead a classy lady who crooned beautiful old standards.

He felt that giddy happiness come up on him again. What fun they were going to have getting to know each other!

His musings were interrupted by Alf tugging at his sleeve. "Hey...Dad?" George looked down with a beaming smile. "CJ's out cold."

Sure enough, his young guest had fallen asleep, curled up right beside the Christmas tree, with Tang in his pocket, Rufus on his stomach, and Hermione's old cat Crookshanks sprawled by his side. George chuckled. "Hagrid must love this kid in Care of Magical Creatures. Mum, where are the boys and I holed up?"

"Your old room, dear...I removed one of the beds and we've put two air mattresses up there for the kids; I didn't think they'd mind camping on the floor." She blushed a little. "Michelle, of course, we've put in Ginny's old room. Ginny and Harry are bunking with Ron and Hermione, and all their kids, up in the attic."

"Thanks, Mum..." He kissed her on the cheek. "You've been wonderful." He murmured, making her blink back tears.

With a quick spell to make CJ feather-light, he extracted him from the menagerie and lifted him to his shoulder, being careful not to crush Tang. CJ muttered something in his sleep about not being tired. "Of course not, kiddo...you're just resting. But you'll rest more comfortably upstairs."

Michelle looked at him from across the room, holding CJ and with Alf carrying Rufus by his side, and she mouthed "I love you".

He blew her a kiss, and then went on his way.

WWWWWW

He'd settled CJ on the mattress closer to the wall; Alf took the one that was between CJ and George's bed. "Tight quarters." Alf said, snuggling under the covers. George, meanwhile, gently removed Tang and placed him in the small cage they'd brought with them. He tucked CJ in, and then turned to do the same for Alf.

"Everything good, kiddo?" He asked, smoothing his son's hair back. "Are you happy?"

Alf smiled at him, leaning in to his touch. "Yeah. You?"

"Very much so." He kissed Alf on the forehead. "Best get some sleep, now...tomorrow will make this evening look tame."

"Dad..." He asked, just as George was thinking about getting up off the floor. "What should I call Professor Fabry now?"

"Oh. Hm." George hadn't actually gone that far. "Good question." He scratched his head, and then shrugged. "I think that's something we'll need to figure out as a family, Alf. The three of us, together...preferably without blowing up a shipment of fireworks in the process." He teased. "How's that sound?" He resumed brushing his finger's through Alf's hair.

"Okay...we can blow up thunder sparrows instead." Alf smirked, then yawned. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you too."

WWWWWWW

DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY.

December 25, 2009—7pm

Well, it was my first ever proper Christmas. I don't think having spent my ten previous ones being tended to by three house elves from whatever my father had done to me really counts as a celebration. Though they did try to make the day festive, decorating the room I was confined to and bringing me special sweets. Still, this is different. Better.

Like, last night Alf's father actually tucked me in to bed. Cedric's done that too, sometimes, but as he's a ghost it's much colder when he does. But I'd fallen asleep on the floor, and Uncle George...er...right, more on that later...rather than waking me up and making me march upstairs myself, actually carried me up stairs, laid me out on the mattress, and pulled the blankets up round me. I think he even rubbed my head a bit. It was nice, but strange too...funny to know that this is what families are supposed to be like.

And the gifts! That I didn't expect. Father, after he pummeled me the other day, dragged me to a store and had me buy a bottle of firewhiskey to give to Alf's dad, and even let me pick out some candy for Alf, but that was it. But I got so much from other people, I would have felt bad, except Uncle George told me that he'd expected I wouldn't have known what to get anyone and that as everything had been pretty last minute, I could hardly have planned ahead.

(About the whole Uncle George thing...I'm not at all sure my father would approve, unless I can make him believe that it's for the good of THE PLAN. But I realized pretty quickly last night that nobody would know who the heck I was talking to if I kept saying Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley. There are, like, six Mr. and four Mrs' Weasleys-with one more on the way-not to mention a ton of Weasley children. So in the end I gave in to Alf's Dad's plea on how to address them).

Anyway, in addition to the coolest little Pygmy Puff, Alf's dad gave me a bright yellow Wo-Wo and a fanged frisbee, Mrs. Weasley gave me a hand-knit sweater that's really nice and warm, and I got some chocolate frogs from Professor Fabry. Uncle Harry gave me, on Teddy's behalf, a book on Quidditch. But it was Alf who gave me this diary. It looks just like a blank book, but there's a spell that converts the writing to, of all things, potions notes. Absolutely brilliant, it is. I understand from Alf that he actually made it, with some help from Professor Flitwick.

Uncle George was really impressed with it. Said it reminded him of some map, and then he, Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry exchanged glances, and the lot of them started laughing. Alf's Gram looked a little concerned, as did Aunt Ginny, but Uncle George turned about and proceeded to reassure them, big time. I don't know why, though...I would have thought a girl, especially, would be okay with a diary.

Oh, and Alf got this amazing broom for Christmas...a Celestia 5000. It's a pretty new make, from what I can understand, and considered to be an excellent broom for Quidditch. I think if it hadn't been about ten degrees and snowing outside he would have run out to try it at once, even with just his pajamas on. Bet his Dad would have gone with him, too.

I guess I really have a bunch of different feelings about this. It would be soooo easy to lose myself in this family. I could close my eyes, and pretend I was a cousin or something, who came to live with them, and just let them take me in. They would, too—they're like that. There is so much love in this house...so much warmth...that sometimes it hurts.

But I can't do it. Can't give in and let myself get that close. I can get a little close, maybe, but not too much. Because sooner or later my father is going to try to force me to do something I don't want to do, and the closer I am with the Weasley's the easier it would be for him to use that closeness. Hopefully I'll have a way out before it reaches that point, but I can't count on it.

I want to. Oh, I want to be a part of this family. I hate myself for thinking this, but maybe my Dad will never come back from Figi, and it will all be okay.

Doubt I'm that lucky.

10pm...addendum.

We just got back to Alf's house, and I realize that Alf never gave his Dad that toilet seat we nicked from the third floor bathroom. Funny, too, after all that planning and work we did on it. Now, before I spent time with him I thought Alf was daft for even thinking about doing that. If I ever gave my Dad something I'd clearly nicked from school, I wouldn't be able to move for a week. But after being here a few days, I'd thought Alf was right...his Dad would get a great kick out of it.

We'd actually snagged two seats from the unused bathroom on the third floor, the one near the only remaining ruins from the battle. How Alf even knew that bathroom was there was beyond me. Eileen took one; she miniaturized it and was going to give it to her dad on a chain, said she knew he'd be tickled. Teddy enjoyed the lark, but said something about Uncle Harry having an aversion to Hogwarts bathrooms, something about someone named Myrtle. And that his Gran would never understand. So Alf took his miniaturized version, along with the spell to resize it, home as a gift.

Only, I can't think why he didn't. I mean, it seems pretty clear to me that his Dad would have been cool. I know that when I got here the other day they seem to have had a bit of a row, but they've definitely cleared that up so why...hang on...there's like, the biggest laughter I've ever heard coming from Alf's Dad's room...

WWWWWWW

George was putting away his array of gifts. He'd made out like a bandit this year, and he was going to really have to purge his closet of old stuff one of these days. But at the moment, something was confusing him more than his organizational challenge.

Alf had given him...a shirt.

A perfectly nice shirt, he'd reasoned. Quite nice, in fact; sort of silky and in an unusual color, a deep chocolate brown. Felt good on, too, fit perfectly. Only, only it wasn't the sort of thing he'd have expected Alf to get him. In fact, he was just faintly disappointed.

Somehow, this gift had been mentioned off and on the past few days, and he'd built up expectations of it. Although he was at least fairly certain Alf hadn't procured it during nefarious wanderings, since he apparently hadn't been on nefarious wanderings. Still, he expected there would be some kind of joke involved.

Or, maybe there was. He held the shirt out tentatively. Was it going to shred at the use of a certain word? Would it become translucent if exposed to sunshine? Maybe it was spelled to write out certain foul phrases, like if George were wearing it and came upon Marcus Flint, it would tell Marcus exactly what George thought of him? Maybe it sang, or played music, or something. Surely the gift Alf had given him, the one he'd been teasing him about, would be more than just a _shirt?_

For the next ten minutes, George tried out every sort of spell he could think of, every test he could make. And he couldn't get the thing to so much as wrinkle!

"Um, Dad...what are you doing?" Alf was standing in the doorway, one hand behind his back, looking puzzled.

George panicked. Either the shirt did do something, and George wasn't smart enough to figure it out, which was humiliating, or it didn't do anything, and George would make Alf feel bad about his gift, which he wasn't going to do, not for anything. "Just admiring the shirt you gave me, kiddo." He said, quickly stuffing it in the closet. "What's up?"

"Um ..." Alf took a deep breath. "I kind of have another present for you...but..."

George felt inordinate relief at that...he was beginning to think he was crazy. "But what? Did something happen to it?" He asked, glad to be the understanding father once again.

"Well..." Alf came in, with a wrapped box before him. "See, it seemed like a really good idea at the time. But then after we got so nuts with each other the other day I wasn't sure. And I know things are fine now, but in the one in a million chance that you aren't amused, well, I decided that if you were going to kill me, I'd rather it be in private and not in front of the family." He blushed, looking sheepish. "So, well, here."

George was beyond intrigued. He tried to think of some kind of gift that would actually make him angry with Alf, and was drawing a blank. He took the package, and raised an eyebrow; it was heavy. "Curious." He sat on the bed, and patted it gently; Alf came over next to him with a sigh. So George undid the wrapping, and opened the box.

A Hogwarts toilet seat.

Alf had given him a Hogwarts toilet seat.

George just stared in total disbelief. Ever since Molly had made an unfounded accusation his third year, the family legend had been that he and Fred had stolen a toilet seat. And as legends grew, within a few years everyone was certain that at one point he and Fred had actually blown up a toilet. Even after Fred died, the rumor persisted, with Percy actually convinced that they had destroyed an entire bathroom! Totally unfounded but, because they had actually done pretty much everything else they'd been accused of, totally impossible to live down.

"Uh, Dad?" Alf asked, in a voice that suddenly seemed very small.

George's laughter came forth like lava from Mt. Vesuvius. He doubled over for a moment, beyond tickled, and then came up for air, wiping tears from his face. He put his arm around Alf, and hugged him close, rocking him over, still laughing.

"BLOODY...BRILLIANT! PERFECT!" George held the object up proudly. "How, how did you pull it off?"

Alf's color was returning to normal. "Third floor bathroom. We went during a faculty meeting...distracted Filch and worked pretty quickly. The place seemed fairly abandoned, which is why we chose it. They may not have even yet noticed that they're gone."

"We? They?" George asked, trying to decide where he could best display this thing of beauty. "And how did you distract Filch?"

"We...Eileen, CJ, Teddy and me...and we nabbed two of them, Eileen wanted one for her Dad. As for Filch, well, turns out Peeves still has a soft spot for you, Dad. He will, in fact, pretty much do what ever I say." Seeing George's stunned look, Alf hurried on. "I promise, I don't take advantage of that...using my powers for good and all..."

George wrapped his arm around Alf once more. "You do realized that if you had been caught, I in no way was going to try to get you out of detention, right?"

"Wouldn't expect you to. I fully knew the consequences." Alf leaned his head against him. "What are you going to do with it, anyway?"

"I'm thinking a position of prominence on the wall in my office." George smirked. "Although as your father I am probably not supposed to be encouraging this."

"Oh, and just so you know, we left five Galleons...that should cover the cost of two new seats, right?" George looked down at him in some surprise. "Well, otherwise it would have been theft!" Alf protested.

Again, George burst out laughing.

CJ poked his head in, and saw what George had in his hand. He gave a thin smile. "Ah, I was wondering!"

George half rose. "C'mere, you!" He pulled CJ down to the bed with him, and proceeded to instigate a pillow fight with the both of them. CJ clearly was out of his league, at first, but after a few minutes he was fighting back, and in the end...CJ laughed. For the first time since he'd got here, George heard CJ laugh.

WWWWWWW

DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY.

December 25, 2009—11pm-second addendum

I don't care what it takes, or how I do it, but I will not hurt George and Alf Weasley. Not now, not ever...no matter what my father does to me. I will fight for this family...because they are now mine.

WWWWWWW

Two weeks later, on the second day back from the Holiday break, Alf and CJ had arrived early to muggle studies. It was not according to any purpose, it just sort of happened.

Professor Fabry...who he seemed to be calling Miss Shell when not in class...smiled when they entered, came over, and sat down on a desk in front of them. "Boys...I had a rather interesting conversation with the headmistress this morning." Michelle looked up at the ceiling innocently. "It would seemed that over the break Argus Filch discovered two missing toilet seats in the abandoned bathroom on the third floor. I doubt very much whether anyone but Argus cares, however, I thought I might just mention that Professor McGonagall seems convinced that my fiancé is responsible for their disappearance. Now, I can't imagine why she should think that a fine upstanding citizen like George would do such a thing, but there you go."

Alf and CJ exchanged looks. "Um, is she much upset, then?" Alf asked.

"Professor McGonagall? I would characterize her as highly amused, more than anything else. I am just suggesting that as long as no further toilet seat thefts occurred, she would not be forced to divest herself of the illusion that a former student was responsible, especially when I happen to be aware that the former student in question has hung the missing object up in his office. Because, of course, what is an amusing feat from a former student might be considered a punishable action if taken by a current student. Do we understand each other, gentlemen?"

The two boys nodded. "Loud and clear, Ma'am." CJ said.

"Good. Let's get ready for class, then." She squeezed Alf's shoulder gently, and then put on a more professional face as other students arrived.

"Have a nice Christmas, Alf?" Harlan asked, as he sat across from him.

Alf and CJ just shared a grin, and laughed.


	16. Ch 16 Reunions, Part 1

March 21, 2010

"Why so worried, Cedric?" Fred Weasley lounged in the waiting-room chair, watching Cedric Diggory work himself into a state of worry. "I thought things went remarkably well over Christmas, all things considered. You're right, by the way...your father is an inhuman pratt."

Cedric grimaced. "Don't remind me...when I saw what he was doing to CJ, I almost died!" Fred raised one eyebrow at that, and that got a half laugh from his equally dead compatriot. "Anyway, your brother was great, Fred.; I'm just so scared that it isn't enough, that it's too late. There's a war going on for CJ's soul, and sometimes I'm terrified that the damage my father has done is too much for me to overcome."

"You have help now, Cedric. He's got Alf, you know, and the other kids; and George and his new lady are watching out for him. And he's strong. Got to be, for him to have survived this far." Fred saw that none of this was easing Cedric's mind, and he reached over to grasp his arm. "Look, buddy...you have to let it go. At a certain point, there's going to come a time where CJ is going to have to decide his own destiny. You're doing everything you can."

Cedric looked Fred over curiously. "It must have been hell for you, sitting back and watching Alf and George struggle before they were able to find each other."

"Especially George. Alf at least had Katie." Fred admitted. "But things do happen for a reason, you know."

"I guess." Cedric sat back and sighed. "Spring break is coming up; I just hope your brother can find a way to bring him home again."

WWWWWWW

Arthur Weasley sat back in his office at the ministry, pondering what long term assignments he might cook up for Amos Diggory. Fiji had actually worked quite nicely; on the surface it was a plum assignment; in actuality the wizard who headed Fiji as a protectorate was a royal pain in the ass, so nobody ever seemed to want the job. Amos, however, had returned with a high sense of importance; Arthur suspected he might have out-assed the Fijian rep.

Still, one couldn't count on more than one trip being necessary per year to Fiji. What he needed was a long term assignment, something which would have a lot of travel required, but that would still seem like a boon.

Percy, who was now head of International Visas and who had previously had the misfortune of working with Amos, suddenly appeared in Arthur's doorway. "Think I've got a lead here, Dad."

"Please give me something..." Arthur said. "George is hounding me daily to get Amos as far away from CJ as possible."

"The ambassador to the Federation of Eastern European Countries is stepping down in May. The actual ministry post is in Dubrovnik, Croatia, which is quite nice, by all I hear. But it's a difficult enough posting to keep people from wanting it; requires coverage of an eight country area, and the personality type isn't to everyone's taste...remember Karkaroff?" Percy raised his eyebrows. "Anyway, the position would keep him out of the country for ten months' of the year, and the two months he's expected to report back are October and March."

"Which, happily, do not coincide with when Hogwart's is out of session." Arthur nodded. "Good, very good...I'll make the offer to Amos, find a way to cajole him appropriately. Excellent work, Percy." He changed the subject. "And how's Penny?"

"Radiant." Percy beamed. "And occasionally cranky. I don't know how you did it seven times, Dad."

"Technically six...although the twins more than made up for only being one pregnancy." Arthur got up with a smile. "And speaking of George, I'll pop by after work and give him the news."

Percy gave a knowing smile. "How are the wedding plans going?"

"The usual." Arthur glanced down at a photo of Molly on his desk.

"Poor George!"

WWWWWWW

George was enjoying a quiet moment in his office. Ron had charge of the floor, and ostensibly he was working on some fireworks shipments to China. In reality, he was attempting, for about the eighth time, to compose a letter to Lee Jordan.

Lee was one of those people who had fallen out of his life after the war. Not quite in the same way as Angelina had fallen out of his life, but gone nevertheless. It had hurt, but at the same time George understood; Lee, perhaps more than anyone else, would never be able to see George without seeing Fred, and he just hadn't been able to cope with it.

He sat back and put his feet up on the desk, revisiting those dark days reluctantly. George had been a right mess; Angelina had left him, and he'd actually tried to kill himself. Harry had made sure he was safely treated with no repercussions, and he'd found himself living with Bill and Fleur...living at The Burrow in those days was out of the question.

People, he remembered, either knew him or they didn't. If they didn't they tended to ask him stupid questions about his ear and blindly stumble in to how lucky he was he hadn't lost more. If they did know him, they tended to take one look at him and just burst in to tears. A handful of loved ones (mostly Ron, Harry, and Ginny, he now realized) treated him as normally as they could, but most people either didn't want to deal with him at all, or dealt with him in the worst possible way.

Lee was one of the people who seemed to have issues just being by his side. He'd stop by to visit and look dead on uncomfortable. He didn't want to talk about Fred, but didn't seem to be able to talk about anything else. They tried speaking on the different things they had done while they were in hiding, but Lee kept on starting sentences with, "Where were you lot when..." or "You two were in London at that point..." And then he'd pause , get all flustered, and move on to something else just as awkward.

Lee, more than anybody else except, it had seemed, his mother, just couldn't conceptualize of one twin. George alone made no more sense than a single sock did. They had met him as a unit, coming to his aid on the Hogwarts Express when he'd had a run in with Flint, gotten detention as a unit (turned out Flint hadn't liked spitting up slugs for an hour), and from that moment on, _been_ a unit. Even going so far as to refer to Lee as "the third twin." But he couldn't be a second twin, with one gone. It just didn't work that way.

Just three months after Fred died, Lee came to him and said he was going, that he'd had opportunities, and besides, he "needed to move on." He said he'd keep in touch; George knew he wouldn't. Though they did try. George would send letters, at first fairly short, but then longer as he began to move on, little notes about new products he was working on or about how cute Bill's baby was. In return, he'd get a post card, from wherever Lee's new broadcasting assignment was. The longest postcard had been when he'd gotten to Australia a few years back. "Love this place. Surf rules. Great Quidditch. Take care, Lee." Ten...friggin...words. He never even bothered to respond.

Somehow, though, word must have reached him about Alf. That got a post-card as well, about a month after his nephew had been found: "Just heard. Wow."

But seeing Lee's nephew, now Alf's Quidditch captain, had put Lee in his thoughts once again. And, damn it all, he was getting married, and Lee ought to be there.

He tried one more time.

"Hey Lee…

I know it's been a while, but just wanted to say, I'm getting married. Yep, finally found someone who could put up with my one-eared weirdness. Her name's Michelle Fabry, and I met her while I was masquerading as a muggle in Salem. That's a long story, my friend…one which I would love to tell you in person.

Alf is an amazing kid. He's in his first year of Hogwarts, and he's on the Quidditch team with your nephew, Darius. It's a scary thought, but it seems I'm not half bad at this whole fatherhood thing. Anyway, I'd love for you to meet him…sometimes he's a lot like Fred, sometimes like Katie, sometimes I even see me in there, but mostly he's just Alf, which is pretty cool.

Look, the wedding's going to be June 12. If you can find a way to make it, we'd be thrilled. Michelle's heard a lot about you, and I know she'd love the chance to grill you for some unsavory tidbits of my school days.

Hope to see you there…George."

George shrugged, scowled, and then picked up the quill once more to add a post script.

"For the love of my holey head, get your arse on a broom, flying carpet, or a bloody muggle airplane and get here. I haven't seen you or heard more than ten words from you in ten bloody years, and that's too long for someone I once willingly served detention for. Stupid wanker."

Well, he thought. That ought to do it!

There was a knock at the door, and he looked up to see his father there. Arthur gave him a big smile, and George felt his hopes surge. "Good news, Dad?"

"Quite so, George…quite so."

WWWWWWW

CJ was sitting alone with Eileen under their favorite tree. Alf had practice; Teddy had gone to speak with the Defense of Dark Arts teacher about something, though it was a subject they'd not be allowed to take under the new curriculum until their third year. CJ was taking the chance to sketch, something he enjoyed doing; Eileen was working on her transfiguration homework.

Normally, CJ sketched from life, usually something right in front of him, but for once he was sketching something from memory. He was trying to recreate an image from that dream he'd had while over Alf's for Christmas. That dream had never really left him, and although he'd never done a full sketch, he'd penned shadowy bits of it, like trying to hold on to wisps of smoke. He'd never told anybody about it, but decided now might be a good time. At least, he didn't think Eileen would laugh at him.

"Leenie, you're in Divination, right?" He asked. His father had insisted he go with Arithmancy, and from what he'd heard of Divination, he was glad for the advice for once.

"Yeah…it's really fascinating. Besides, I'm not really a numbers person." She looked up. "Something on your mind, Ceej?"

CJ crossed his arms, hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake. "Know anything about prophetic dreams? Like, maybe, how you can tell if you've had one?"

Bless her, she didn't laugh at him. He was pretty sure Teddy and Alf would have never let him hear the end of it. Thinking carefully, she shook her head. "We're not up that far yet, we're just at tea-leaves. Do you think you've had one, CJ?"

He sighed. "Maybe. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, because it was a nice dream." Like the fact that he'd live in to adulthood, without destroying his relationship with the Weasleys, and even maybe have a future family of his own. "Funny thing was, in the dream there was this girl I'd never seen before, and then a day later I actually met her."

Eileen brightened up the minute he mentioned a girl, and he hurried on. "She wasn't _my_ girl, Leenie. Actually, she was Teddy's."

"Hm. Who all was in this dream?" Seeing him hesitate, she crossed her heart. "Won't tell anyone, Ceej, not even Alf and Teddy!"

Eileen kept her promises, he knew, so that was alright then. "We all were, the four of us, only we were grown up. A couple of years past graduation, I think. Alf's dad was offering me a job, which is why I thought it was just wishful thinking."

"Why wouldn't Alf's dad offer you a job if you wanted one when you grew up?" She asked, interrupting.

He shook his head. "That really wasn't the crux of it. I had a girlfriend, someone I don't recognize, and Teddy had one too…I knew, without him saying so, that he was now a curse-breaker, like Alf's Uncle Bill, and he was a top flight one too. He was with this really beautiful woman, stunning…strawberry blond hair and silver eyes…bewitching."

"…sounds like a veela to me." She said, not even sounding cross about the description.

"That's it exactly." CJ nodded. "See, I had the dream, and then when we go over Alf's Grandparent's for the holiday, this girl walked in…younger…but Eileen, it was THE girl. THE girl I know is going to be Teddy's wife someday. She's only like nine now, but I was dead on certain of it. And Alf told me later that his cousin Victoire…that's her…had a major crush on Teddy, and insisted she was going to marry him one day. AND, she's part veela!"

Eileen chewed on the tip of her quill, lost in thought. "That is strange. Are you sure you didn't maybe see a picture of her somewhere before?"

"Swear not." CJ said at once. "So it was after I saw her, that I got to wondering if there wasn't maybe more to the dream than I thought."

Eileen sighed. "Could be. Or could be a coincidence, or you picking up on something subliminal." She raised an eyebrow suddenly. "Hey, didn't you say Alf and I were there too?"

CJ hesitated. "Uh, yeah…you were."

"Well…who were we with?" She asked with a smirk. "Surely we must have had dates for this little gathering."

"Kind of." His collar suddenly felt tight.

"Kind of? C'mon, Ceej…you can do better than that. What, was Alf with Sally Kepler or something? Wait…I wasn't with Harlan, was I? I'd rather kiss a flobberworm!"

"Um…actually you were there with each other." He said, rather quickly.

"Pardon?" She asked. Then it sank in, and she started to giggle. "Oh, no…no way, Ceej! Ewww!"

"Well…you WERE!" He insisted.

"Then there's your answer…there is no way that is any kind of prophesy! Alf and I…that'd be like dating my brother, if I had one. Least likely thing I ever heard." She wiped tears from her eyes at the thought. "That was funny, Ceej. I hope the parts you want to be true come true…but thank God you're no matchmaker!"

CJ was puzzled though, as he thought about it. Truly, before the dream he had never considered any of them dating Eileen…it would, in some silly way, break up the group. But the more he thought about it, somehow Eileen and Alf seemed to fit. He remembered how it was in the dream, the sudden crystal understanding of something you've really known all along. She was laughing now, of course…well, now they were eleven, and who in the heck seriously thought about dating anyone? But somehow, if there was anything true in that dream, he'd be willing to bet that Eileen and Alf were it.

He jumped slightly as Teddy interrupted his musings to throw himself on the ground with the group. "Greetings, all. I am here to inform you that Professor Grainsworth has changed my life."

"What this time?" CJ joked.

"Serious. He's forming a dueling club…that's where I was…and we spoke afterwards. You know, I think instead of being an auror, what I really want to be is a _cursebreaker!_ Wouldn't that be cool?" Teddy's hair had flamed emerald green at the thought.

CJ bit the inside of his lip hard, as Eileen suddenly sat upright, blinking. "You…what?"

"A cursebreaker! It'd be wicked!" His eyes shone in anticipation, then looked at Eileen carefully. "You're not looking so good, Leenie."

"I…have to go." And without further words she got up and darted off, nearly running in to Alf, just returned from practice.

"Oi!" Alf watched her go, puzzled because she hadn't so much as said hi, then he turned back to the boys. "What's with her?"

"Girls." Teddy shrugged, tossing a snitch up in to the air.

"Yeah…girls." CJ added, a bit lamely. This was going to be interesting, indeed.

WWWWWWW

"But what about the spring break?" George asked his father at once. "That takes care of summer, which is wonderful, but spring break is just two weeks away, and as things stand his father will be picking him up."

Arthur sighed. "George, really…surely you can't expect to take the boy away from his father entirely."

George crossed his arms defiantly in front of his chest. "Why not? His father sure as shite doesn't deserve him."

"Look, just because Amos is strict…" Arthur began.

"Strict? Dad, I'm talking about unforgivable curses here. There's a reason they're called that!"

Arthur shook his head. "George, you have no proof that Amos did that…and really, I have a hard time believing Amos would. The boy might be exaggerating."

George felt his blood-pressure rising. "The boy couldn't be exaggerating. That would mean the boy had told me something, and he won't say a bloody word. But I did tend to him when he was at my house, and Michelle has done a full scale medical scan. She's seen the signs of repeated curse exposure. The kid has suffered, Dad. And I know you too well to think you would agree with what he's done."

Arthur waffled slightly for a moment, then tried a different tactic. "You know what wizard law is, Parent's discretion rules. C'mon George…what if somebody had tried to take you away from us because I'd struck you the time you tried to curse Ronnie?"

George almost fell over. "Dad, you hit me and Fred once. In seventeen years. For a serious offense. I…" George paused, not wanting to betray CJ. "Look Dad, we're not talking about Amos giving him a few swats here. We're talking drawing blood. But I know that doesn't matter…that the wizarding community will not act on physical punishment. But an unforgivable is an unforgivable."

"And is undetectable, when done in a private residence with standard house protections." Arthur added. "IF you're correct, and Amos is doing this, then the boy would have to accuse him formally, and there would be a trial."

George paled. "And what if he lost? Then go back to Amos's care? Over my dead body!"

"GEORGE!" Arthur snapped, then sighed. "Look, son, I know you care about the boy…and I believe you when you say that Amos has gone overboard on the physical discipline…that's why I've taken the steps that I have to get Amos posted overseas. Your trade off is going to be one week of spring break that they'll be together. It's the best we can do."

George's shoulders sagged. "What about a pensieve? If he recalls the curses in the pensieve, would that be enough?"

Arthur considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "Unforgivables do things to the memory, George. Especially Cruciatus. If somebody _has_ been cursing him, we'd have no way to trust what his memory shows us as the perpetrator."

"Convenient." George grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "Well, hopefully he survives this week in order to get to us for the summer."

Arthur rose to go, turning to look at his son one last time. "Truly, George, it cannot be what you think." He spoke soothingly. "No father could do this to their own son."

George looked up in exasperation. "Dad…every father is not you."

WWWWWWW

March 27, 20010

Alf was walking with Darius towards the Quidditch pitch. He hadn't played another game since that first one, but once again the usual keeper had detention. Sadly, Alf was still using the stupid school broom, as he'd received no "Potter Privileges", but he felt even more confident this game than he had in that first one. Darius seemed highly amused by how calm he was.

"Slytherin's a tough group, Alf." Darius pointed out.

"I know. But we're way out of the house cup anyway, aren't we? Even if we win, we'd have to totally decimate them to make headway." Alf was quite relaxed. Because they were in such a low position, he really felt like it was impossible for him to screw anything up. "And Darius? You don't have to treat me with kid gloves. I'd like a shot at making the regular team next year so the more chances I get to make plays, the better."

"Like there's a chance of me taking it easy on you after that last save." Darius snorted. He looked about the field, and then waved. "Hey, Alf, over there...that's my Uncle Lee. Your Dad's friend."

"No way!" Alf craned his neck. "What's he doing here?"

"Big international match between Melbourne and Aberdeen that he's covering, so he made a side trip when he found out we had a match today. I think he's just glad we're playing Slytherin and not Gryffindor!" Darius chuckled.

"Man, I wish I'd known, I bet Dad would have loved to have seen him." Alf didn't fully understand his father's relationship with Lee Jordan; he talked about him a lot when talking about his school days, but somehow it seemed that Lee had just kind of evaporated later on. Very strange...he couldn't imagine his friends not being a part of his future.

"They're calling us on...you ready, kid?" Alf gave him a glare of death, and Darius laughed, as they ran out on to the field.

WWWWWWW

Michelle was sitting next to Professor Flitwick in the Ravenclaw stands. Most of the time, she did her best to stay as neutral as possible when dealing with Alf, but there were certain times, she'd informed Minerva, that simply wouldn't be possible, and a Quidditch match was one of them.

CJ had gone to sit with Eileen and Teddy in the Hufflepuff stands; she could see them across from her. Understandably CJ could hardly come sit in with Ravenclaw when they were playing Slytherin, so clearly the kids had opted for the most neutral of turf, as Gryffindor was battling with Slytherin for the cup.

Minerva came over just after the match got underweigh as well. "How's the wedding plans coming along, my dear?"

"Well, from all I hear Molly has essentially caused ulcers to all of her daughters in law, plus her daughter, trying to do these weddings at home. Basically, George said that being in a pit of asps was easier than spending time with Molly in the weeks before the wedding." Michelle watched and cheered as Alf made his first save; she exchanged a high-five with Filius, having just taught him what a high-five was. Of course, with Filius it was more of a low five...

"Bless me, dear…and I though you and Molly were getting on so well." Minerva watched as Ravenclaw made a quick score.

"We are…which is why I've been meaning to speak to you about having the wedding heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…" The last word turned to a squeal as Alf made a rather spectacular move to not only save the goal, but dodge a beater before feeding a shot to his team-mate, who took it down the pitch for another score. "Um, yeah, here at Hogwarts."

"Of course you are welcome to, Michelle...but how will you get that past Molly?" She asked, curious.

Michelle's eyes sparkled. "Don't underestimate me, Minerva." She grinned. Alf's next save was even more spectacular, and the crowd was buzzing.

Minerva looked from Alf, to Michelle, and back again. "Mixing Weasley blood with yours might turn out to be the end of the school. You will have some formidable offspring, indeed!"

WWWWWWW

Teddy kept going back and forth between the Gryffindor stands and the bench where CJ and Eileen were sitting. Whenever he was gone, CJ tried cajoling Eileen gently. "You've got to ease up on Alf a bit, Leenie. He think's your mad at him."

"I'm not mad at him, CJ." Eileen whispered. She watched as Alf made what was his seventeenth save in what was becoming the longest Hogwarts Quidditch match ever. It was 140-0, with no sign of the snitch over a three hour period. "It's just I keep thinking about what you told me, and it's screwing with my mind. How could I date _Alf?"_

"Hey, I didn't say you'd have to do it tomorrow…" He reasoned. "Besides, you're hurting Alf's feelings. He's really confused. Really, really."

"He's not confused, he just thinks I've gone mental." Catching CJ's surprise, she said, "I heard him say so to Jack Mina."

"Well, of course a guy isn't going to admit he's had his feelings hurt by a girl!" CJ pointed out, then ducked as Eileen took a swing at him. "Look, please…my dream was probably shite…most divination stuff is, anyway…just promise me you'll stop getting all weird around him."

"I am not being…"

There was a huge gasp from the crowd. Alf had taken a bludger to the side while making a save, and now he was in a head-long dive.

"Aiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Eileen screamed, hiding her face. CJ grabbed her hand tight.

Just with seconds to spare, Alf pulled out of the free fall, and zoomed back up to the posts. He was a little pale, and probably more than a little sore, but just fine. "He made it, Leenie."

She peeked through her fingers and then sighed. Then, with a glare. "I'd have done that for you and Teddy, too!" She insisted.

"Of course." And, with a grin. "Just think, if he'd bought it there, the last thing you'd have said to him was "Eep" as you darted out of his way at breakfast this morning."

"Oh, shut up." But she smiled, and CJ was glad to see that she seemed to be returning to normal.


	17. Ch 17 Reunions, Part 2

The match dragged on. The snitch made two brief appearances, but both the Slytherin and Ravenclaw seekers were adequate at best, and it seemed almost to be enjoying teasing them and then disappearing. Minerva fretted as twilight fell and the match reached the six hour point. "Really, I ought to call it off..."

Filius squeaked indignantly. "Minerva, you can't do that! We're up by 520 points. If we catch the snitch, we'd actually move in to second for the house cup!"

It was currently 550-30. Alf had missed three balls in the first twenty minutes after that nasty hit he took (Michelle had felt her entire body grow cold when that happened), but he'd recovered nicely.

"Well, Filius, I can't think the cup is going to matter too much to you if your younger players start falling off of their brooms in exhaustion!" She put in, firmly. Anxiously Michelle looked towards her soon-to-be step son; Alf seemed to have a firm seat on his broom, but six hours was a long time to be flying for anyone, let alone a boy who just turned twelve.

Just at that moment there was a flash of light...the snitch apparently wanted the match over as well. It was in the Ravenclaw end, and it darted, in fact, around Alf in the goal post. Pity as a Goalie he wasn't allowed to catch it; he could have done so quite easily. Instead, he had two seekers both barreling down on him. "Oh, God..." Michelle moaned, as someone threw a quaffle, probably hoping to get Alf out of the way.

Bless the boy...there was that look in his eye like she'd seen at his first Quidditch game, and he flipped about, using the tail of the broom to swoop the snitch towards his own seeker while reaching out to deflect the shot away from the goal. The Ravenclaw seeker snagged his prize, and a roar (possibly one of relief) went up from the crowd.

Michelle let up a cheer, and assisted Filius with high-fiving his other students. Minerva patted her arm with a sigh of exhaustion. Across the way, Michelle could see CJ poking Eileen and whisper something, and saw her turn and hit him playfully. Teddy flew into the group beaming, since Ravenclaw's win had virtually assured Gryffindor of the cup.

A young man, a visitor, had come to speak to Minerva. A black man with dreadlocks of medium height, he reached over and kissed the headmistress on the cheek. "Wicked match, Professor." He said, with a smooth voice that seemed to resonate. "A little strange watching it, I have to say."

"First time you've been back here, isn't it, Lee?" Minerva replied. "Your nephew's quite the young man. And of course, you must have recognized the Ravenclaw goalie?"

"It would have been hard not to." Lee's smile became just a tad forced. Minerva turned back to Michelle.

"I must introduce you. Lee Jordan, this is Michelle Fabry...Muggle Studies Professor, and of course, George Weasley's fiancée." Minerva smirked lightly.

Michelle felt a rush of joy. "Oh, of course...I've heard so much about you!" She beamed at the other man, squeezing his hand. "George will be so happy to know that you're here!" Her eyes twinkled. "The stories he tells..."

Lee pulled his hand away, and twisted his neck a bit awkwardly. "Um, well, I'm only here for a bit...big match in Aberdeen...got to get back to Melbourne in a couple of days, in fact."

Chagrinned, she frowned. "That's a shame...pity George didn't know you were coming, he'd have come out to see you."

"Yeah, well, it was kind of sudden..."

"Allo Lee!" Hagrid ambled by, scuffing the man's head for good measure. "Darius told me last month that you'd be coming about for a bit. Been 'ere about two weeks now, have you, visitin' yer sister?"

"Um..."

Michelle felt her normally long fuse lighting in to a quick blaze; Minerva, sensing that something was not quite right, hustled Hagrid away. Lee looked like he wished the ground would swallow him whole; frankly that was an end that Michelle thought was far too good for him.

"Well, I've gotta go...nice meeting you." He stuttered out.

"Of course you do." With lightning speed, she grasped his arm. "You will make it to the wedding, right? Your best friend doesn't get married every day, after all."

"Look..." Lee tried to shake off her grasp, she wasn't letting him. "You don't understand." He tried, pleading with her.

"Right, I don't understand. I don't understand why every time George runs in to one of his old school mates they talk about you like they hear from you all the time, and he has to pretend like he knows what they're talking about. And I guess I really don't understand why so many of George's old friends, including the one he considered his best friend, would rather cross the street before looking him in the eye. What I do understand is that it hurts him, and _that_ hurts me to see." She'd kept her voice low, but she was clearly seething, clearly not able sit back and let it go.

Lee shook his head, getting angry himself. "Look, you _don't _understand, because you didn't know Fred. You can never understand. You only know just George. I wish it were that easy for me..."

"_Easy?!?" _

"...But it's not. Every time I look at George, all I can think about is that Fred is gone. And I can't bear watching George go on with his life like Fred never existed...hell, from what I hear he even treats Fred's son as if Fred never existed." Lee scowled.

"How...dare...you!" She crossed her arms and came right up to Lee, in such a way he couldn't possibly back off. "Do you really think George isn't acutely aware that Fred is gone? Like, every time he looks in the mirror? Fred will always be a part of him, and he has nurtured his twin's son in the same way he knew Fred would have done for him. The difference between George and you, is that George is also acutely aware that HE lived, and that Fred would want him to keep doing that. You...too many of you...seem to have buried them both."

Before Lee could respond further, Darius jogged up to them. He glanced between them both, and then interrupted with a little shake of his head. "Um...Professor Fabry...Alf's in with Madam Pomfrey. Turns out he hurt himself more on that bludger play than we knew. Thought you should know."

Michelle immediately forgot about Lee Jordan. "Bad, Darius?"

"Couple of broken ribs, maybe. Don't know how he managed to keep on flying."

Michelle didn't bother to stay to hear anything else. Lifting up her robes, she ran full tilt towards the castle, noticing that CJ, Eileen and Teddy were following suit.

WWWWWWW

Poppy Pomfrey thought she had seen some difficult patients in her day. Most notoriously Harry Potter himself, who was a regular visitor and who seemed to be almost belligerent at times, like it was her fault that he'd landed there. But Alfred Weasley was her newly crowned champion of difficult patients!

"Really, Mr. Weasley...stop being such a foolish child, those cracked ribs are nothing to mess with!" She grumbled, as she stood there with a dose of Skele-Grow in her hand.

Alf was backed up against the pillows, in a way made his entire mid-section burn, his arms crossed defensively in front of him and his mouth tightly closed. Without uttering one word he'd made it clear that in no way was he taking that medicine.

Just beyond him, the rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team was gathered, murmuring. Finally, taking the lead, a seventh year beater by the name of William Chu came up to him with a coaxing smile. "Hey, Alf...it's not so bad. We've all been there before. It will make you feel better much more quickly."

Shaking his head emphatically, Alf backed even further up against the wall, angling away from anyone who might attempt to force the issue.

"MR. WEASLEY!" Poppy started to grow red in the face. " I am one step away from getting your father out here and making him pour it down your throat!"

Tears bit the corner of Alf's eyes, but he continued the defiant stare, as if to say, "Go on and do it!"

"Is there a problem, Madam Pomfrey?" Michelle came forward, quickly sizing up that Alf was having issues with the school nurse.

"Here!" Poppy thrust the bottle in to her hand. "YOU get him to take it. _I_ am going to pour myself a stiff drink."

WWWWWWW

Michelle looked down at Alf in surprise, and the look she got back was of such imploring desperation that she put the bottle down. She sat at the corner of his bed, and touched his side; he winced and bit his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. "Alf, you really do need the medicine...you've mashed up those ribs pretty good." She said, gently.

Alf shook his head hard, and then motioned her to come close to him. She leaned in to hear him better, and he said in a very small whisper, "Nearly killed me last time. Please don't make me!" And he glanced over the shoulder at the rest of the team, now joined by Darius and Lee as well, and blushed.

"Ah...I think I see part of the problem." With a wave of her wand, impenetrable curtains swooped about the bed, giving them privacy, and she added a silencing charm for good measure. "There now, no need for a tough guy act...slide on down and let me take a proper look." Alf did as instructed, easier now that his team-mates couldn't see him _fussing_ so much.

"That must have hurt like hell, Alf...how did you stay on the broom?" She asked, applying a cool poultice that Poppy had already got ready.

"Figured hitting the ground from 100 feet in the air would hurt worse." He mumbled.

"Good thinking." She gave him a smile as he relaxed. "Now, what exactly is the problem with the Skele-Grow?"

"Broke my arm when I first came to live with dad. They wanted Skele-Knit but had to settle for Skele-Grow. Only...it made me sick. Bad sick...I woke up with everyone standing by my bed waiting for me to die. Had a fever and they couldn't wake me up."

"Well, that seems an entirely legitimate reason to me for you to not like Skele-Grow!" She said, rubbing his head. "Why didn't you tell that to Madam Pomfrey?"

"Was afraid she'd pour it right in my mouth the minute I opened it." He said, sulking just a little, and Michelle nearly laughed.

"You might be right about that. I'll advise her that she might want to rethink the dose first, ask questions later tactic." She continued dabbing at his bruised side. "Anyone ever figure out why you had such a reaction?"

Alf took a deep breath, or tried to and thought better of it. "Was before I got magic. When they thought I was a squib. You know about that, right?"

"I do." She sat back. "So, Alf, thing is, you probably _could_ take the medicine now without any side effects. We could start with a test dose of a dropper full and see how you react?" She looked a question at him.

"But..." He hesitated, and then blurted out. "Last time even before it made me sick, it turned me into a whining, blubbering wimp. Dad had to hold on to me for like an hour before I stopped, and I only stopped because I fainted. I don't want anyone seeing me crying like a two year old!"

Michelle would have laughed, but she knew that would wound Alf's already damaged pride. "Well, right now nobody can see you at all...that's why I closed the curtains. Now, which arm was broken last time?" Alf held out the limb, and she examined it. "Ah, it was a compound fracture...three of them, actually. Molly healed you, I would guess?" Alf gave a careful nod, as Michelle released his arm, and then moved his shirt back down over his bruise. "Okay, Alf...do you trust me?"

Rather slowly, Alf nodded again.

"Good. Because I am positive that the Skele-Grow will not hurt anywhere near as bad as the last time. The reason it hurt so much was the severity of the breaks and the amount of activity the compound had to make to repair them. That, plus the fact that you were intolerant of it. So...knowing that nobody can hear you if you decide to hoot and holler a bit, will you try a test dose for me?" She rubbed his head gently.

Alf watched her. "Will you stay with me? Just, you know, in case?"

"Like you could get me to leave." She scoffed. Alf sank back in the pillows with a nod then, and she reached for the bottle.

She tried a few drops first. Alf made a face, and then they waited. He gave a bit of a grimace, and she checked his eyes for any change, any hint that the potion was causing a reaction. There was none, and she poured out the rest of the dose.

The next half hour was tense...she sat with Alf, holding him. He didn't so much as cry or whimper, but he maintained a death grip on her hand "You're doing great, Alf...just fine..." She encouraged. Alf did give a little sniffle then, and she let him curl up in to her shoulder. The time ticked away...she kept checking his pupils and was pleased to see no signs of poisoning. Finally, after an hour, the pain began to wane, and Alf relaxed.

"Thanks." Alf said, falling back against the pillows.

"Just doing my job." She said, kissing him on the forehead.

At that moment the curtains swung open and an anxious George poked his head in. "Is everything okay? Professor McGonagall got me on the floo...I came as soon as I could." He was pale and wide eyed until he saw a relatively well Alf manage a smile. Visibly he exhaled. "Oh, thank God." He came to the other side of the bed. "So...why is Madam Pomfrey accusing you of being the devil's spawn, hm?" He teased. Then he saw the bottle of skele-grow, and he went gray again.

"It's okay, George." Michelle squeezed his arm. "I took care of everything. We did a drop test to make sure he could tolerate it, and the dose has just finished its course."

"But how did you know..." George asked, holding tight to Alf's hand.

"Alf told me...or rather I asked why he was so freaked out by the medication, which is more than Poppy had done." She reached across Alf and joined her hand to theirs.

"I'm okay, Dad, really. Miss Shell took very good care of me." He murmured, his eyes growing heavy.

"I can see that." He said. "So I suppose this isn't a good time to ask why you didn't let me know you'd be playing today?" He teased. "I would have liked to have seen the longest game in Hogwarts History."

"Didn't know I was playing till just before match." He smiled, sinking in to the pillow. "I did alright."

"Right. Saved 75 shots on goal and engineered the capture of the snitch." Michelle rubbed his head, checking for fever. Alf was now fast asleep.

George held her hand and caught her eye. "You're sure the potion's okay with him now? I mean I know it should be, but it was damned scary last time...I couldn't go through that again."

Michelle reached over and kissed him. "I promise you, it's already through his system. Although I'm going to stay and keep an eye on him just in case."

"Have I mentioned that I love you?"

"Not since you got here, you cad."

A throat cleared from beyond the now semi-open curtains, and George looked up to see Lee Jordan. His face lit up. "Lee? Ruddy hell, what are you doing here? Did you get to see Alf play?"

"He can't hear YOU...you're within the silencing charm." George looked at her, and she explained, "Alf was afraid he'd start howling the castle down in front of his friends."

"Ah...of course." He looked over to where Lee seemed to be slinking away. "Mind if I..."

Michelle sighed, very much afraid George was about to get hurt. "Go on, love. I'll be here if you want to talk later."

He bent over and kissed her again, and then hurried away.

WWWWWWW

"Hey…Lee!" George called out softly into the infirmary. "Didn't know you were in town!"

Lee Jordan forced a smile on his face and met George in the midst of the room. "Big international match I'm calling."

"Ah, of course, of course…Aberdeen-Melbourne. I should have known." George beamed at him. "So, um…you caught the match here then?"

"Yeah, yeah…Darius is my nephew, you know. Don't get to see him much." Lee let his voice trail of, as if he knew where George was going next.

"So…you saw Alf play, eh?" George said. "I know you heard that we'd found him."

Lee looked around for a moment, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Oliver Wood wrote me. Pretty surprising, I imagine…finding Fred's son." Lee made a show of looking at his watch. "Hey, getting pretty late here…I ought to be heading out."

George felt something twist inside of him. "So that's it, then? The most you have to say about it? The most you have to say to me?"

"What would you have me say, George?" Lee said, sounding exasperated. "I haven't seen you in more than ten years, you know."

"Yeah, actually, I KNOW." George said, wrapping is arms around himself, willing himself not to throw a jinx at his best friend. "Matter of fact, you still haven't seen me. You won't let yourself look me in the eye."

Lee sighed, and managed to do just that. For about ten seconds. Then he cringed and looked away. "It's just too hard, George. I see you, I see Fred. It's…too…hard."

George didn't speak for a second, then he forced his voice out. "Lee, trust me. You don't know hard. Hard is waking up in the morning and looking for the person who's been by your side for nineteen years, only to realize that they're gone for ever. And having that happen the next morning, and the next, and the next. Hard is seeing reminders of that person every time you look in a mirror, and having it give you a jolt because at first you think it's him. Hard is having people you love look at your face to find traces of someone else." George's voice became thick, and he swallowed forcefully. "Hard is the tangible reminder that for some people, you died when he did."

Lee looked down for a moment, and then he once again met George's eye, with tears in his. "I know you didn't die when Fred did. But it felt that way to me. How could anything ever be the same?"

George shook his head. "It can't. It isn't. And it was damned difficult for me to accept that. But I have. I had to. I found a child who needs a father. And I knew what Fred would want me to do."

Lee snorted, half laughing, and letting derision fill him. "You've forgotten him, George. You've gone on. You started sending me those letters, you never even mentioned him. You tell me he still exists for you…I say you've taken every step to eradicate him from your memory, STARTING with taking claim over his son."

He didn't mean to. He didn't plan to. But he did it anyway. Without warning his fist connected with Lee's face, knocking Lee to the ground. "Bloody bastard. Easy enough for you to talk about what I ought to have done, while you were running away from everything I had to deal with." George snapped. "Meanwhile, I had a ten year old gift show up on my doorstep and save my bloody life. And he needed a father, not one of six Uncles. You think I should have said, sorry kid, I can't love you like that, we need to preserve the sacred memory of a man you never knew. Hell, do you think Fred would have wanted that?"

"Mr. Weasley!" Professor McGonagall came and got between him and Lee; Lee was wiping blood off his chin. George had gone pale, and was actually shaking. "The both of you…this is a school! I can't have the so-called adults misbehaving like mischievous children!" She shook her head in exasperation. "Both of you…shoo."

They managed to make it out to the hallway before Lee jumped George; the two of them wrestled down to the ground.

"Geroff me…"

"Stupid wanker."

"Insensitive clod."

"Coward!"

Lee let go of George at that last word, and they separated, each of them rather banged up. They both remained crouched on the floor, staring at each other. Then, without warning, Lee bunched up, head on his knees, and started to cry.

"Oh, lord…" George groaned, coming over to him. "Will you shut up, Lee? There's going to be a bunch of kids around you wondering why you lost your barmy mind. Why are you crying NOW? Fred has a son, he's a terrific kid, and I intend on raising him as Fred would want me to. And I'm getting married to the most wonderful woman on the planet. _Now_ isn't the time to cry, and you know if Fred could see your sorry arse right now he'd kick it across the hall, after he was done laughing at you."

Lee half laughed, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I never cried for Fred, George." He whispered. "Crying for him would make it true."

George shook his head. "Not crying for him didn't make it **not** true."

They both leaned back against the wall, not speaking for a few moments while Lee composed himself. "It scares me, George. Going forward without him. Doesn't it scare you?"

George rubbed his chin. "Know what scares me, Lee? My thirty-ninth birthday."

"Explain." Lee said, without moving.

"The day I turn thirty nine, I will have officially have lived longer without Fred than with him. For a long time I looked ahead to that date with a sort of sick dread. Part of me wasn't convinced I'd make it that far." George gave a wry grin into the dimming hallway. "And then I realized, I could be thirty nine and a sad pathetic wanker living in the past, or thirty nine with a successful business and a family. And I asked myself if Fred were alive, which would he be?"

"Yeah, well…" Lee gave a half laugh. "Fred wasn't much in to the past."

George chuckled in agreement. "Half the time he couldn't remember the last hour, let alone the day before."

Lee looked over at George…really looked at him, for the first time in years. "Do you hate me, George?"

"That depends. Are you showing up at my wedding or not? Because if not, I am going to have to resume beating the snot out of you right now." George deadpanned.

Lee smiled. "I'll be there." He paused. "She really loves you." Seeing George's confusion, he went on, "She just about chewed me up and spit me out when she found out I'd come to Hogwarts without telling you. Rather protective of you, actually. Reminds me a bit…"

"Don't say it!"

"…of your Mum." Lee's smile became a smirk.

"Bastard!" But he laughed. Then he got up and held a hand out to Lee to help him as well. "C'mon, let's make sure that Professor McGonagall knows we aren't trying to kill each other…and then I'll introduce you properly to the fiancée."

WWWWWWW

It was the next morning when George found himself leaving the castle. Alf was recovering just fine, and Michelle and Lee were speaking to each other, which he figured was a start. She seemed still rather suspicious of his best friend, and he could hardly fault her for that. He was still wondering if Lee really would show up at the Wedding, and until he did, all bets were off.

It was just within the school boundaries that he heard a voice: "Mr. Wealsey!" Turning, he saw CJ running towards him, and he gave the boy a welcoming smile, and a slight scold.

"I thought that was Uncle George, CJ." He said, as the boy came up to him.

CJ blushed slightly. "Didn't think it counted when we were at school." He said.

"It counts all the time." George insisted. "Do you need something, kiddo?"

"Just wanted to check if Alf was okay. Madam Pomfrey won't let us in." He said at once. And then, looking George over, asked quickly. "Are _you_ okay, Sir? You look like you got in to a fight."

"I did. Long story. But yes, Alf is just fine, should be released later today and he can give you all the gory details." George rubbed CJ's head. "Do me a favor and try and encourage him to stay in once piece, will you.?"

"I'll try." CJ smiled. Then, he added unexpectedly, looking a little sheepish. "My father owled me about his posting this summer, Sir. I suppose it's okay…I mean, if I can stay with you…for a bit."

"For more than a bit, CJ…for the whole summer, of course." George squeezed his shoulder. "Wish we could get you for the spring vacation as well."

"Yeah…that'd be a lot to ask for, knowing my Dad. Better a week with him than two and a half months, though." CJ shrugged, pretending not to care.

George cared, though, and he couldn't pretend otherwise. "CJ, you ever need anything, anything at all, and we're there for you. You're part of the family, now." He saw how much that startled the boy, and he gave him a hug…a brief one; he didn't want the kid to die of embarrassment. "See you soon, kid."

George moved just past the apparition boundary, turning to see CJ still rooted to the spot, with the strangest look on his face. Well, he guessed the boy just wasn't used to people caring about him. He'd just have to get used to it.


	18. Ch 18: The Best Laid Plans

It was the day to leave for the Spring vacation. (Some vacation, Alf thought, he had enough homework for more than a week!) Alf saw CJ in the great hall, waiting for everyone else; Teddy and Eileen didn't seem to be down yet. Alf watched CJ for a moment before approaching his friend. They never talked about what Alf had learned about CJ over Christmas; it was almost a code of honor between them. He understood that CJ just wasn't ready to share those details with Teddy and Eileen, and he respected that. But he was still worried.

"All packed, then?" Alf asked, rather lamely he thought, because CJ's bag was sitting right there.

CJ understood the question not asked. "I'll be fine; I lived with my father for eleven years; what's one more week?" He said, simply.

Alf wished he could believe that; he remembered too well what CJ's father had been able to do to him over the course of a couple of days before he'd come to Godric's Hollow for Christmas. He must have let his feelings show a little too obviously, because CJ bristled.

"I'm not _soft_ you know. I won't break." CJ said, affecting the sort of annoying nonchalance that had been so irritating in the early weeks they'd first met each other, and which he used to hide when he was worried or nervous. But Alf let it drop; no point on dwelling on what couldn't be changed.

"Well, I'm glad you'll be around for the wedding, at least." Alf said, giving a little push to his friend; CJ answered him with a playful shove back, and out of nowhere Teddy flew in with a half-tackle, and the three of them burst in to giggles at the roughhousing.

"Boys!" Eileen sighed, as if she were much put upon by their behavior. But she smiled as well.

"C'mon Ei, think how boring your life would be without us?" Alf gave her the grin he used on George when his father was worrying that he was up to something, and she laughed.

"Still think you're idiots." She said, linking arms with CJ and dragging the group out towards the yard.

Alf sighed in relief. He still wasn't sure what he'd done (he knew it must have been something) but boy was he glad Eileen had returned to normal. He hadn't realized it until she started getting all weird around him, but he really liked her friendship. Teddy was his mate, and CJ was like a brother, but there was something about Eileen, about her sensible attitude and way of cutting through nonsense, that he'd really missed when she was ignoring him. Maybe it was just that her friendship was different because she was a girl. In any event, he'd missed her.

WWWWWWW

The train sped towards London, the four of them sitting together and laughing the whole time. Well, three of them were laughing; CJ was rather quieter than normal. At last the Express pulled in to the station, and as it slowed down Eileen jumped up and looked out the window. "Hey, that's my dad!" She chirped, excitedly, pulling Alf up to look out the window with her.

He spied Edward Prince and saw a resemblance with the portrait of Severus Snape that he'd seen. Only Edward Prince was a good deal older, with his hair mostly gray, and he had a genuine, warm smile. Teddy, who had popped in to the window as well, exclaimed out loud. "Cripes, Eileen, he looks old enough to be your Grandfather!" Which led Alf to immediately thwacking Teddy on the head.

Eileen didn't yell, though. "He was older when he married my Mom…said it took a special woman to make him give up his bachelor life. They're really quite sweet…in an occasionally nauseating way."

CJ had gathered his bag. "I better go on ahead." He said, sounding blasé. "You know how weird my old man gets that I have friends."

Teddy smacked him encouragingly on the shoulder, and he exchanged a nod with Alf; Eileen rushed forward with a hug, which took him rather by surprise. "Ooof, it's a week, Leenie, not a lifetime. Geez!"

"Take care of yourself." She scolded. "And finish your transfiguration paper!" She added.

CJ gave her a wicked grin, and a salute. "As ordered ma'am."

Alf had a bad feeling as he watched his friend disappear into the crowded corridor, heading for the door as the train came to a stop. More slowly, he picked up his own bag and walked out just behind Teddy and Eileen, looking forward along the platform to where he could see his father waiting for him. George's smile was as bright as their hair; he waved enthusiastically to Alf, and then turned to greet Michelle, who'd been at the front of the train. A fairly tame greeting, Alf thought, as George gave her a little squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. But then, she was still in Professor mode, he supposed.

Harlan Browne, as usual, had a wise-assed comment. "Going to wait until they're in private before they start making out, eh?"

Teddy, Alf and Eileen all turned with words on their lips, but before they could say anything, somebody managed to hit Harlan with a jelly-legs jinx. They looked at each other, seeing no wands drawn, and then made to evaporate into the crowd before they could be unjustly accused.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alf caught sight of CJ, who may have given him a discrete wink. So _that_ was it, he thought.

Then he and Teddy both noticed what could only be Amos Diggory; a large jovial looking man with a blustery smile, who came up and ruffled CJ's hair in a great show of affection. But the smile didn't touch his eyes, which seemed very much aware of people watching him.

Teddy might not have known the details of CJ's problems, but he understood just from what CJ didn't say that Amos was difficult. So it was with more hope than promise that he said, "He _seems_ alright."

"So does a tiger from the other side of the cage." Alf put in darkly. They exchanged glances, and then they went forward to their own families, for a week of rest.

WWWWWWW

On the first full day of her break, Michelle Fabry had opted to have a nice quiet lunch with her future mother-in-law at The Burrow. It was her plan of attack to get Molly thinking that a wedding at Hogwarts would be a nice idea. But she didn't broach anything during the nice luncheon Molly had set out, instead waiting until they were both resting, enjoying the uncharacteristically fine day.

Molly had immediately taken out her knitting, no doubt working on one of the many Christmas sweaters she would be doing. The color was a rich brown, and Michelle wondered if she'd already used up the special yarn she'd given her for Christmas, Michelle hoped that Molly had made something for herself with it, but suspected that it had probably gone to somebody's gift as well.

"I have special plans for that yarn." Molly said, guessing where Michelle's thoughts were going. "It's far too precious to use on just any old thing."

Michelle smiled at her. "As long as you enjoyed working with it, that's all that mattered." Funny how well she and Molly seemed to understand each other. And with that thought, she abandoned her carefully thought out plan of subliminally getting Molly to see things her way. She was going to be straightforward and truthful, and trust in her new-found relationship with this woman to keep everything calm.

She was probably crazy.

"Molly," She began, still hesitant over using her first name. "I've been thinking, that it might be nice to have the wedding ceremony at Hogwarts."

Molly was momentarily startled, mainly betrayed because she dropped a stitch. "You mean not to have the wedding here, dear?" She asked, her mouth slightly open.

"I've been thinking about it, Molly, and there are a few reasons." Michelle rushed forward, hoping to cut off any hurt feelings. "I want this day to be perfect for George, even more than for me, and I'm afraid if we have it here it's going to especially remind him of who _isn't_ here to share it with him."

There was a moment's silence after that. "It's true…" Molly mused. "That I always pictured Fred and George getting married together, though the odds of them finding the right women at the same time I guess were always pretty long."

"Right. And if George ever thought about this day…though I'm not sure men do…I'm sure he expected Fred to at least be by his side, if not a fellow groomsman. Maybe getting married somewhere he didn't expect to be will change that picture a little. But, I'm also thinking of you. Admit it, Molly…" Michelle's voice turned cajoling. "You've never really been able to enjoy any of your kids' weddings, have you? With all the planning and cleaning, and landscaping, I'm sure it's been a nervous breakdown waiting to happen. And I want you to have fun there; I want to see you dancing with Arthur and chasing your grandchildren, and able to come home to a clean and relatively sane house when the day is done!"

Molly laughed. "Michelle, if this house were ever sane I'd start worrying. But otherwise, I think it's an excellent idea. Hogwarts is lovely in June."

Michelle almost fell off of her chair. "You're okay with this?"

Molly put away her knitting, and with a twinkle in her eye and a quick brandish of her wand, procured a bottle of home-made elderberry wine. Without any further words she poured them both glasses, and passed one over to Michelle. Then she spoke. "I shouldn't say this, because I love them all dearly, but you do have the potential to be my favorite daughter-in-law!"

Michelle exhaled, and nearly drank off the wine in a single gulp. Molly continued.

"Every wedding, I've been waiting for one of the kids to let me off the hook with this. Of course, once it seemed it was expected to have the wedding here, I had to make sure it was fabulous. Now with Bill and Fleur, that I insisted on being here; no way was my firstborn getting married in France!" She sipped appreciatively at the wine, remembering that wedding and the chaos that was going on around it. "But afterwards, I expected each wedding to be elsewhere. And was wrong each time. Penny just let me take control, not much caring about the details; poor Harry had no other options, really, and as for the Grangers, well, as muggles they were hardly equipped to handle it, I guess. But each time I was just praying for somebody to suggest doing this elsewhere. Because you're right…it's a huge amount of work."

Michelle could only smile and shake her head. "Does anybody know you at all, Molly?"

Molly looked with fondness over towards the workshop. "Arthur does…though he doesn't understand everything. A little mystery, my dear, is always advisable." She raised her glass. "So here's to mystery!"

Michelle followed suit, greatly relieved and wondering at the look on George's face when she told him she'd succeeded! And deciding at that moment that she wouldn't tell him how. "To mystery!"

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

It's just the second day of vacation, and already I'm so stir-crazy I feel like I could go barmy staring at these four walls!

Father did deign to pick me up at the train this time, and made a big show of being the doting father. Then he got me home and thrashed me for not having grades quite up to his expectations. Not that bad, though…certainly nothing like last time. And he didn't use any magic, which is really the worst of it.

Dixie, as always, helped put me back together, then, and this morning again when he decided I needed a 'refresher.' She was so sad; kept saying to me how they missed me when I was gone, but how they still wished I wasn't there. Well, that I can understand; I wish I weren't here, either.

And now I find myself, as I always have been, _grounded_ (Ha! New word for my vocabulary, father!) as, of course, I am locked in here from the moment my father leaves for work until he returns home. I feel happy enough that for whatever reason he hasn't decided to question me on my on-going mission of revenge; sooner or later he is going to see right through my acting. I shudder to think what he will do then.

Sometimes I don't understand how he doesn't see that I have changed. Because I have, I have! I am not the same person who went away to school, with nobody I trusted and wary of the world outside of one ghost and three house elves. Hogwarts has opened a whole new possibility to me, and if good people like the Weasleys can think that I'm okay, then there must be more to me than in-bred revenge.

Sometimes, the knowledge that I will have an entire glorious summer with Alf and his Dad seems unreal. Surely my father can't mean to have that happen? I know that he expects that I will be using this to worm my way closer to acts of mayhem and destruction, but still, giving me over two months of normalcy? A little scary, frankly.

I miss Tang, too. Hagrid kindly agreed to care for the little fur ball over vacation, and he is the only one that Tang will let handle him for an extend people of time. Funny, I didn't much think Hagrid had taken to me at first; he doesn't seem to like too many Slytherins. But I'm good with animals, of all sorts, even the ones that most people back away from, and he respects that. Heck, I _know_ I'm the only person who finds flobberworms interesting. Now Hagrid thinks I'm a ruddy genious.

Good thing, though. Whatever else happened, I couldn't bring Tang here. If my father thought I had something I cared about, something that might distract me from _the cause_, he'd kill it. I think the only reason the elves are still alive is that it's beyond his power to harm them. Cedric, of course, is a moot point, even if Father were aware enough to see him there.

And I hear him coming home now. Fun, fun. Best change this diary back to potions notes. I don't want him reading this, and knowing his little instrument of revenge now has thoughts of his own.

Later.

WWWWWWW

George was relaxing on the sofa with Michelle; Alf was sprawled on the floor working on his Transfiguration paper. Beyond them was the newly completed Wizard Television; it would bring in any muggle program you could request, with a special chant. Trouble was, of course, that most wizards would have no clue what a muggle program was. No problem for George, though; and now he and Michelle were watching the previous day's Red Sox game, which had been the home opener.

This is nice, George thought, as he massaged Michelle's neck while she looked over a folder of wedding plans. This, he knew, was about as perfect as things could be. He leaned over and nuzzled her ear. "I can't believe you got my Mum to agree to have the wedding at Hogwarts." He said, looking over her shoulder at the plans she'd spent the day working out with Molly. "How did you do it?"

"Oh, I have my ways!" She teased, leaning in closer to him.

Alf got up on one elbow to look over to them. "Hey, is anybody from Salem coming to the wedding?" He asked.

Michelle gave him a wink. "As a matter of fact…" She waved a clearly muggle envelope with meaning. "Jimmy just wrote to say that he and Tony are making it out!"

"WICKED!" Alf jumped up and came over to Michelle's other side, grasping the note. "That'll be wild!"

"Excellent, indeed!" George agreed, also looking over the letter. "It'll be great to see Jimmy again…but are you sure he knows what he's in for?"

"Yep…he seems to be regarding it like an extended wild amusement park ride. Also said he tried to explain things to Tony, and the kid goes between thinking it's the most awesome thing in the world, and wondering if Jimmy isn't having one over on him." She chuckled.

"Well, I have wedding news too…" George looked at Michelle carefully. "Lee Jordan wrote to say he was definitely coming."

"Hmf." Michelle sniffed slightly. Then, seeing George's imploring look, she softened. "Oh, all right, I'll give him a second chance, despite the fact that he was a complete horse's ass when I met him. But only if you promise not to end up in another fist-fight!" She punched him playfully.

"So…who are you going to use for a best man, Dad?" Alf asked, looking up as if just now struck with the thought. "Lee Jordan, or Uncle Ron?"

George froze at the question. At first he looked puzzled, as if it had never occurred to him, and then the color faded from his face and something deep froze over in his eyes. He blinked once, wiped his hand on his cheek, and then looked away for a second. He rose quickly. "I, um…excuse me…" And walked from the room, not seeing that he'd stunned his fiancée and horrified his son.

WWWWWWW

Alf hung his head towards his knees and balled his hands into fists, beating them against his thighs. "I can't believe I am such a stupid, moronic idiot!" He moaned out, trying hard to hold back tears.

"Hey, stop that, you're going to hurt yourself!" Michelle grasped his hands firmly. "Don't, Alf!"

He looked up at her, his face wet. "How could I not realize what that would make him think of?

She reached over and hugged him. "It was a simple question, Alf…and frankly I'm surprised it hadn't occurred to him before. But I know he's not mad at you. There was going to come a time in the next few weeks when he was made to think of Fred, and that Fred's not here." She patted Alf's back gently. "Better it's when we're here for him, than when we we're both at school."

"If I hadn't said something stupid…" Alf berated himself. "It wouldn't have happened at all."

Michelle sighed. "Not true, Alf. I guarantee you it would have happened eventually. He was too close to Fred for it not to have." She raised his chin, and could see the doubt in his eyes. She smoothed his cheeks, drying them, and on impulse reached forward and kissed his forehead, something she'd never done before. "It will be okay, Alf, I promise. Now, get yourself up to bed, hm? It's pretty late, and tomorrow we're going over Harry's to spend the day with the Dursley's. I'll take care of your Dad."

"Tell him I'm sorry!" Alf pleaded.

Michelle considered trying to say again that he didn't have anything to be sorry for; it had been an innocent question, but knew that nothing she could say was going to make it better. "Alright, kiddo, I'll do that." She watched him go miserably up to bed, and then rose, resolving not to let George obsess on this.

WWWWWWW

George had gone outside, to his back yard, and he was sitting on a bench, staring off in to the darkness. It really had never occurred to him, that he needed a best man. In fact, it wasn't something he'd ever really thought of before, not even when Fred was alive. Why should he…there was no thought needed. Fred was his best man, always. Never a question.

Only, of course, now there was.

He felt Michelle's hand on his back, rubbing his shoulders. She draped her arms around him and leaned forward, nuzzling against his good ear. "Hey, big guy…Alf wants me to tell you he's sorry." She murmured.

George groaned. "God, he's blaming himself, isn't he? I bollixed up a perfectly nice evening there, didn't I?"

She came around and sat beside him; with a little coaxing she got him to lay back, so that his head was in her lap, staring up at the stars. She ran her hands through her hair. "Nothing wrong with the evening; we had a lovely dinner, watched a lovely baseball game and had a lovely talk about the wedding. It was just one bad question…which actually isn't so bad, just blindsided you."

"Blindsided. Yeah." He grimaced. "I don't know why I never thought of it myself. My whole life, it was never an issue. I was _born_ with a best man."

"And he'll be there with you, George." She stroked his forehead. "But I don't think he's going to be in any position to hand you a ring." She added.

George actually chuckled at that. "You are the only person who would dare to make a joke about that." He paused. "Fred would have loved you." Tears flooded his eyes.

"Fred does love me." She said, stroking his face in the same way she had just done with Alf. "As he loves you, as he loves Alfred. I believe that; believe that he's with you every second of the day, George. Maybe he'll be there even more because we're at Hogwarts. And he's so proud of you for how you've gone on, with what you've done with your life." She roughed his hair. "Don't mess it up now by getting all sloppy on him."

"He'd kick my arse." George said. "If he saw this. And especially if he knew I just hurt his son's feelings in the process."

"Your son, and he'd be the first to say it." She helped him sit back upright, and kissed his nose. "Now, go apologize to your son, before Alf spends a sleepless night beating himself up for being a heinously insensitive child who hurt the feelings of the person who means the most to him in this world."

"God, you know him nearly as well as you know me." George walked with her, looking up towards the sky the entire time. As he had a thought, he felt certain that he saw a shooting star go across the sky. "Heh." He said. "Glad to see you agree."

"Pardon?" Michelle asked.

"Nothing, dear. Tell you later."

WWWWWWW

George came up to Alf's bed, and sat down beside him. Alf turned over immediately. "Sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to upset you." He mumbled.

"Don't apologize to me because I'm stupid." George helped Alf sit up, and hugged him close. "And I'm not upset anymore. Although I'm sure there are going to be a few more days in the next weeks where I find myself missing Fred one hell of a lot. But it wasn't a bad question."

Alf wiped at his face, and calmed himself. "You really hadn't thought about it at all, had you?" He asked.

"No, I hadn't. But I have now. Actually, I even think I have Fred's sanction. I know who my best man is." George pushed Alf's hair off his face gently.

"Lee, or Uncle Ron?" Alf asked, curious.

"Neither." George looked at Alf with meaning. When his son just blinked up at him, he stroked his face gently. "You."

Alf blinked once, like he hadn't heard right. "Me?" He asked, in a quiet voice.

"You. There isn't anyone else it should be. Lee is a good friend, and Ron is a terrific brother. But you are now the most important man in my life, if you will. It's you who belongs up there with me. If you'll do it?" He asked, cocking his head to the side with an imploring look.

Alf threw his arms around George's neck. "Of course I will!" He exclaimed, sounding thrilled. "I can't think of anything cooler, Dad!"

George laughed, feeling relieved, as he hugged Alf tight. "That's settled, then…and fortunately I can provide you with a decent set of dress robes…ask your Uncle Ron about his first ones, sometime." He let Alf lay back down, and tucked him in. More seriously, he said, "I didn't mean to upset you, Alf. I wouldn't intentionally hurt you for the world."

"I know." Alf curled up in the bed. "I feel the same way…that's why I felt so bad that I did."

"YOU didn't." George stroked his head. "Not really." He watched as Alf's eyes fluttered and closed. "See you in the morning. Tomorrow will be a great day."

George had no way of knowing he was wrong.


	19. Ch 19 Mistakes made

Harry had been pacing slightly at Heathrow Airport. He was uncharacteristically nervous. Dudley was, if he thought about it, his only living blood relative. On the one hand, it seemed appropriate that he should have some kind of a relationship with him. And it seemed equally clear that Dudley had changed; his letters and the little meeting they'd had at Christmas spoke volumes on that account. Nevertheless, having a relationship with Dudley would have ranked up there with "hug a dementor" on his list of probabilities when he was growing up.

Yet one couldn't get away from certain facts. One, Dudley had defended and aided George Weasley back in America, alienating his wizard-hating father in the process; two, Dudley had actually named a child after him, and three, that child was showing wizard-like tendencies.

"I know it's rum of me to ask you this, Harry." Dudley had said, over Christmas. "But looking back, I can see how bloody awkward you must have felt, being different from the rest of us without knowing why, and none of us were exactly what you'd call supportive. If you can help my boy so he doesn't grow up feeling like...like.."

"A freak?" Harry had managed a wry smirk at that, and for a very human moment he'd enjoyed watching Dudley squirm. But he couldn't keep it up; Dudley recognized that he'd been wrong, and also was asking for help for his child. Besides, Dudley had been a child too, in those days, and he had done nothing other than parrot what his parents had taught him. Really, given how little actual parenting Dudley had received, it was remarkable that he'd grown up to be a decent human being at all.

So the spring break invitation was issued; Dudley's boy would get to see what it meant to be a wizard, get a chance to be around kids who were like him. It gave Harry a pang of wistfulness, but it was the right thing to do.

"Allo, Harry...there's your namesake right now!" A big voice called out to him. Harry turned and spied his cousin, with what must be his wife and child, approaching. Harry gave an awkward smile at first, one that turned genuine when he saw the boy, who appeared more than a little shy. Because the first thing you noticed about little Harry was those eyes.

The young child was noticing the same thing back, evidently, staring at Harry with an intensity that was almost scary. The boy was quite adorable, actually, with pale blond hair and a slight build like his mother's. She, patting her son on the shoulder, introduced herself. "Kim Dursley, Mr. Potter...and as you've guessed, this is little Harry. He seems to have gone a bit shy." At which point little Harry turned and buried his head in his mother's leg.

"Please, call me Harry. And I completely understand how he feels!" Harry winked at the boy, who graced him with half a smile.

"So...er..." Dudley looked both nervous and excited. "How, exactly, do we get to your house, hm?"

"We drive, of course!" Harry said, sounding completely muggle. But again, he winked.

WWWWWWW

By the time they'd arrived at Godric's Hollow, any shyness Hal (the nickname seemed advisable, under the circumstances) had evaporated; the kid was a complete chatterbox. And why not? Upon entering an entirely normal looking on the outside sedan, the boy had found himself in a space spelled to be twice the size of a muggle car, which offered beverages and snacks from a seemingly unending supply and which was capable of squeezing between and around muggle vehicles at will.

Dudley, sitting in the front seat with Harry while Kim and Hal investigated Exploding Snap in the back seat, was beyond impressed. "Man, what was my father ruddy afraid of? This is a car he'd have killed for!"

Harry had been forced to admit at that point that he'd borrowed the car from the ministry. "My regular car is all muggle...there are times when it's the most sensible way to travel." Privately he'd laughed to himself; Ginny had scolded him about borrowing the special car for picking his relatives up, guessing correctly that he really wanted to impress Dudley.

Within five minutes of arriving at the house, Harry felt a little silly. There was no need to try to impress Dudley; the mere way in which they lived their lives did that. From the simplest _aloha mora_ to a more complicated _scourgify_ it was all new and wonderful to their muggle guests; for Hal, it was a revelation.

At lunch, George and Michelle came over with Alfred; Alf, as always, was Ginny's biggest asset, as he and Teddy pretty much occupied the younger kids with a variety of games. Albus and James were in their glory; and even Lily enjoyed being around "her boys" as she called them.

"I miss those kids when they're in school." Ginny sighed, watching through the window as Alf taught James and Albus how to play muggle soccer. "They make being a mother so much easier."

"I can see that. Hal's a handful on his own, I can't imagine having three." Kim's and Ginny exchanged a look of universal motherhood that transcended muggle-magical blood.

Dudley had been looking around, admiring everything. Now he turned to Harry. "So...do you think Hal really is a wizard, Harry?"

Harry laughed. "Well, let's see...he spilled a cup of milk which somehow managed to pause in free fall and pour itself back up into the glass. My guess is, yes."

Kim was looking over the yard with Ginny, and turned back. "So...what do we do now? I've been watching your kids, and they seem so completely normal. I don't see them doing any magic except by accident. I guess I expected...I don't know..."

"To see small children hexing each other?" George quipped. "Kids don't even get a wand until they get to a wizarding school. Any magic they do perform is strictly accidental. And once they do get to school, they're under warning not to use what they learn until they come of age, unless they are in a life-threatening situation, of course."

"I remember." Dudley said, recognition dawning on his face. "You got in to a spot of trouble over that, didn't you, Harry? They were really mad about what you did to those...those things that were after me; but that was self defense, right? You shouldn't have gotten in to trouble, should you have?"

"No, he shouldn't have." Ginny said, simply. "But that was in the midst of the war, and the ministry was afraid of Harry."

"Because they couldn't control him." George put in, grimacing in remembrance.

"You're both exaggerating." Harry was blushing. "But see, Dudley, it's a funny thing. If Alf were to take out his wand right now and hex Teddy, he wouldn't be in any trouble at all..."

"Except from me." George put in.

"...Right. No _official_ trouble. Because we're in a highly magical area, with a lot of wizards around. The use of magic around here wouldn't raise any red flags. It's up to a young wizard's parents to monitor their use of magic. However, for a child in a muggle family, using magic sticks out like screaming sirens. When I used magic on Privet Drive, the ministry was all over me." Harry shrugged lightly.

"Kind of screws kids born to muggle parents, doesn't it?" Kim said, sensibly.

"I never thought of it that way, but I suppose it did. Although the lecture we got from my parents when we got caught using magic wasn't a whole heck of a lot better than dealing with the ministry!" George joked.

Harry retorted: "Spoken like someone who never had to go in front of the Wizengamut!"

The wizards all laughed; Dudley and Kim smiled politely, but still looked a little overwhelmed. "It just seems like there's so much to know. And even if your kids can't use magic, they're around it all the time. It doesn't scare them, or anything. I just wish there was something we could do that would prepare Hal for the world he's going to be a part of." Kim mused, with a frown.

Everyone around the table was silent in contemplation, when suddenly Michelle turned to George. "George? What about that manuscript?"

There was a few seconds of silence, before Ginny, quite confused, asked, "What manuscript? Did you actually write something when you were in America, George? I thought all you did was bake cookies."

George had gone ashen, and was looking at Michelle with something akin to horror; Michelle just stared back, puzzled. Finally, he spoke. "I um, had to have something going, in case anyone asked…but it was really, um, no big deal…" Beads of sweat seemed to form on his forehead.

"I thought it was brilliant." Michelle defended him, misreading his reticence for being humble about his talents. "And really, nothing could better explain the wizard world from a young boy's perspective…it would make Hal feel quite at home."

"Um, Shell…" George stuttered out, giving a little shake of his head.

"Go on, George…what did you write about?" Ginny grinned. And everyone turned to look at him.

Finally, George spoke. "I, um…well, what I understood was you had to write what you know. And it had to be something none of the blokes would be interested in. So I made it a kids book; young adult, I guess. And, then Alf made a comment on the stories Katie used to tell him, how they seemed like great fiction, and the thing is, it really was, if you stood back and read it. Not that I ever, ever meant it for publication!" His voice turned pleading.

Harry had never seen George so nonplussed in his life. And rarely had he ever had a chance to tweak one of the twins about something…they had always been one step ahead of everyone else. "Go, on, George…cat's out of the bag now."

George drew a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and met Harry's eye with resignation. "I wrote about you, Harry. I wrote about your first year."

WWWWWWW

Alf came back and stood by Teddy, watching as James and Hal and Albus worked at passing the soccer ball to each other. "Not such a bad game, really, even if there's no magic in it." Teddy blew his bangs out of his face, today they were striped like a zebra's. "Kind of good, really, to know it when you need to fit in to the muggle world."

"Glad you like it." Alf grinned. "My friend Tony from Salem is coming to the wedding, and we can't exactly put him on a broom."

"Not twice." Teddy laughed, and then he and Alf both giggled as Lily came toddling over, frustrated at being excluded, and tackled the black and white ball.

Before either could do anything, though, there was a loud bang as the screen door slammed, and the sound of raised voices.

"…CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WOULD BETRAY ME LIKE THAT!" Harry was screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Harry, it wasn't _like _that!" George responded. Both of them, Alf noticed, were very red faced, and were standing on the back porch, Michelle coming up beside his Dad, and Aunt Gin standing furious behind Harry. "It wasn't supposed to be read by anyone, it was just me killing time while I was in bloody exile!"

Alf and Teddy gave each other worried looks, and then both came forward to see what was going on.

"Bloody hell, George, after everything I've done for you, _especially_ for you, what were you THINKING!" Harry ran his hands through his hair, absolutely beside himself. "Like having seventeen near-complete strangers, from Rita Skeeter to Stan Shunpike, writing unauthorized biographies about me wasn't bad enough!"

"This wasn't a biography, it was FICTION." George put in.

"IT IS MY LIFE!" Harry seethed, arms crossed in front of him. "And my life isn't fiction, it's what I had to put up with when I was everyone's bloody savior. But you, YOU, of all people, always making a show of treating me like I was a normal human being, and what do you pull? What made you think this was a GOOD IDEA, George?"

"Harry, I'm _sorry!_" Alf saw that his father was desperately trying to stay calm, all the while being quite freaked out. "And you always were normal to us…to me…oh hell, Harry. This wasn't some bloody book about you being the savior of the Wizarding world. And like I keep saying, it was never meant to be read by ANYONE."

"SHE read it!" Harry pointed violently towards Michelle. "AND she is now recommending that others read it too!"

"I hardly knew you were going to go mental when I did so." Michelle said coldly, but George got between her and Harry.

"SHE is the woman I love." George said, his voice now seething. "And I left the manuscript in her care, when I thought I was walking out of her life forever. It was never anything more than an attempt to explain to her what I was."

Harry's face was pale, lips trembling, and his eyes were like jade, and just as hard. "Get off of my property. At once. Or I will hex you so badly you will wish you were still playing at being a muggle."

"Harry…" George tried.

Harry pulled out his wand.

Alf saw his Dad blink once at that, and then look over at Aunt Gin, whose chin was jutted out in defiance. And without any further words, George spun around towards their own house, Michelle following.

Harry turned around, with Ginny beside him. "Teddy…" She paused at the door. "Bring in the kids, please." And she kept going.

Teddy and Alf looked at each other, each stunned and a little ill.

"Um. See you later. If I can." Teddy said, a tad shakily.

"Right. I better go." Alf said. _Before Uncle Harry hexes me._

Trotting ahead, Alf heard little Lily start crying. "Why Dorge go? Why Daddy mad?" She whimpered.

Bloody hell, Alf thought. Fine mess this is!

WWWWWWW

When Alf came in to the kitchen, he found Michelle weeping in his Dad's arms.

"Sorry…so sorry, George!" She kept saying.

"Hush, love, you weren't to know." George was stroking her hair gently; he caught Alf's eye, and forced a smile. "Always said Harry'd kill me if he knew what I was up to, eh, Alf." He tried to joke lamely.

Michelle, realizing Alf was there, forced herself to stop crying; Alf handed her a towel and a glass of water. None of them spoke for a few more minutes, before Alf felt he had to ask. "How did it come up?"

Michelle sniffed hard again. "I thought…I thought if Kim and Dudley could read it, it would help Hal to understand what being a wizard means. Stupid, I know."

Alf thought hard, and chewed on his lower lip. "Actually, quite smart." He said, remembering how well written the book was. "I know that knowing that story helped me loads."

"But I never should have written it." George sat down at a kitchen chair, and pulled Michelle on to his lap; Alf leaned up behind him. "I knew Harry would see it as a betrayal; I knew what all those other books did to him. They've died out now, but for the first few years after the war, they were everywhere. People who once served Harry ice-cream at Fortescue's seemed to come out of the woodwork with some kind of story about the wizard savior. And he couldn't go two feet down Diagon Alley without being swarmed. He hated it; hated the attention and the buzz. Can't say that I blame him." George leaned is head on his fist, looking unspeakably miserable.

Alf sat across the table, and the more he thought about it, the angrier he got. "But you _told_ him you never meant to publish it. Miss Shell and I are the only ones who read it, and we know the story anyway."

"Alf." George started, and then gave him a wan smile. "I appreciate your coming to my defence. But there's no excuse for this, and I'm afraid I can't quite see how he's ever going to forgive me."

Privatley, Alf thought that was bullshit; Uncle Harry was really blowing this up all out of proportion. So he didn't want anyone to read the manuscript? Well, fine, then nobody would! What _problem?_ It wasn't like George was insisting on putting it out there.

There was a crackle at the floo; Alf spotted the face first. "It's Gramps."

"Hell, Ginny didn't waste any time ratting me out, did she?" George sighed, and then got up to talk to Arthur.

But before he could begin with the apology he was afraid he'd have to make…over and over and over again, Arthur's urgent voice interrupted him. "George…you there? George?"

"Here, Dad." George said, picking up on his father's tone. "What's wrong?"

"George, I…I owe you an apology." Arthur stuttered out.

"I…you…what?" George felt like his head was going to start spinning around like in that crazy muggle movie he'd watched one night back in the states.

Arthur's head seemed to quaver a bit, but then went on. "George, we just got notification of the use of an unforgivable. _Extensive _use of an unforgivable. From the area around Amos Diggory's house."

George felt his stomach sink to his knees, and everything about the manuscript was forgotten. "No, Dad! No, no…tell me it isn't what I'm thinking!"

Arthur seemed to look down at some report. "Percy and I are heading over there with some backup. We'll get back to you as soon as we have some more details. But we're showing over an hour of cruciatus from the area."

_An hour? _George saw, from the corner of his eye, Alf nearly collapse in shock and Michelle holding on to his son, both of them sinking to the floor, grasping each other. He forced himself to stay calm. "You get CJ, Dad." George said, his voice sounding funny. "I don't care what it takes. You get CJ, and you bring him here, and we will take care of him. We will." He trembled a little.

"Right, Son. We'll report back to you, as soon as we, well, as soon as we know anything." There was a popping noise, and Arthur's head disappeared from the flames.

George turned back around, and getting on one knee, hugged his fiancée and his son close to him; Alf's eyes were wide and worried. "An hour, Dad? Can anyone even survive that?"

"It can be survived." George thought about Neville Longbottom's parents, who had apparently gone through forty-eight hours of off and on Cruciatus. They, of course, were to this day locked up in St. Mungo's. What condition CJ would be in was beyond his comprehension at the moment. "We need to see what we're dealing with, first. And then together we'll help him. We can." We must, George thought.

_Please let CJ be alright, Fred._ He begged of his brother. _Please do what you can_.

WWWWWWW

Arthur and Percy, with Auror Maurice Abbott as backup, popped into the fields around the Diggory house, wands drawn. They heard no screams and no cries, until there was a wail of misery. An adult's cry, no child's.

They came forward, and found Amos Diggory on his knees, over the trembling body of a small boy, one who had clearly been cursed to just within human limits. Amos looked over at him, and Arthur wondered if he would try to tell him that the boy had been attacked by an outsider; Arthur would never believe Amos, not after having foolishly dismissed George's worry previously.

But not so. Amos handed over his wand. "What have I done, Arthur? I killed my boy…I did…I didn't want to; something just came over me. Told him to stay in, I did, and he came out, and I just meant to punish him a little. But I thought about Cedric, about how much I missed Cedric, and I thought Cedric would never have disobeyed me. And I kept going, my anger kept going, and I kept thinking that my Cedric was dead, and I…and I…I killed CJ!" Amos broke down and cried like a child.

Percy was leaning over the boy. "He's alive, Dad. Barely, in complete magical shock, but alive." Percy's normally placid face brimmed with anger. He tried to touch CJ, and the boy's shaking grew violent, so he backed away.

Amos continued to wail. "Take him away from me, Arthur. Maybe your boy will take him in…he's a good man. I can't trust myself with him. He's always been a handful, but doesn't deserve this, he doesn't. Not his fault he's not as good as Cedric."

Arthur felt a mix of pity and disgust. Why should a child have to be burdened by living up to the memory of an older brother he never even got to know? He looked over to his son, who was digging in a sack for one of the potion's they'd brought with them. "Percy, take him to St. Mungo's, please. Abbott and I will bring in…"

There was a pop beyond them, and Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared. "Hold a moment, Arthur." Kingsley's face was inscrutable. "If we bring the boy to the hospital, Diggory's done for. A life sentence at the very least. And that's not advisable right now."

"Minister…he nearly killed his own child with an unforgivable." Percy said, showing his determination never to bend again to anybody because of title. "This isn't really debatable."

Kingsley shook his head. "I'd appreciate it if you'd bear me out…there are other issues here. Naturally, I'm not suggesting the boy be left in his custody. Is there a safe place he can be brought to be treated?"

Arthur watched Kingsley carefully, and then looked to Percy. "Might be better this way, Perce. To have the boy with friends." Percy still looked doubtful, but Arthur turned to the minister. "My son George will take him in. Young Diggory is good friends with my grandson."

"Then let's do it…and I'll finish explaining. Percy, if you'd escort the boy?" The minister said, coming up beside Arthur and looking without expression over Diggory.

Percy managed to get a vial of Fleur's special potion down the boy's throat, and some of the tension went out of him; the shaking stopped and Percy was able to pick him up. "Easy, CJ…I'm taking you to friends."

Whether or not CJ heard a word of it was debatable. Percy apparated them both quickly, hoping that George's fiancée's healing skills were as good as they were rumored to be.

WWWWWWW

"Oh, my God!" Michelle whirled as Percy came in from the back door, having just apparated, a shivering black bundle in his arms.

"Why on earth isn't he at St. Mungo's?" George yelled, his voice going up an octave.

"Don't ask me…the _minister_ got involved. But you've got custody, far as I can tell." Percy followed Michelle up the stairs, and they burst into Alf's room.

Alf jumped up from the bed, where he'd been absently stroking Rufus and worrying about his friend. Seeing what was happening, he sat back down, and scrunched far back in the corner, hand stuffed in his mouth in horror.

"Amos admitted everything…" Percy said, getting out of the way and letting Michelle examine the child. "He's pretty bad." He added, putting a steadying hand on George.

Michelle exhaled suddenly. "Not beyond help, though." She had loosened CJ's robes, and cringed at the burn marks she found, magical marks of extensive curses thrown at close range. "I need some salve."

"I'll get it…I'll get everything!" Alf jumped off the bed to go for the healing supplies. He'd heard all that mattered, which was that CJ could be saved.

_Please let us save him_.

WWWWWWW

_This isn't happening._ The voice inside CJ's head, the one he was left with when there weren't any more screams, kept saying it over and over.

He'd been fine. He closed his diary and converted the text. And his father came upstairs, a familiar glint in his eye, and CJ knew he was in for it. Not for any good reason, but then, he was beginning to believe George Weasley, that there was _never_ any good reason.

The first curse hit him for ten minutes. And then stopped for ten. And then started. And stopped. On and on and on, despite the shrieks of the elves, despite the whirling ghostly power of Cedric, which his father refused to see. And then came the plan, the awful plan, the one CJ hadn't seen coming.

Because his father knew, that after an entire evening and night and morning of curses, ten minutes on, ten minutes off, a twelve year old boy would do anything, anything to make it stop, even the thing you'd sworn on your brother's grave you never would do. But over, and over, and over again, and OH, wouldn't the pain ever end?

And then you did it, and it turned out that the plan wasn't done…and your father drags what's left of you beyond the protective boundary of the house, to curse you again, for longer, for steadier, for more than you'd ever known, and you hope he's killing you, but you know he's not, because that would defeat the plan.

The plan which includes the curses now being detected, as they are outside, and the plan that counts on someone coming to help, and counts on that someone being a Weasley, and counts on George Weasley taking him in.

And now there are soft voices and kind words, and gentle hands healing you and entreating you to stay, to get better, to be part of their family. Perfect words from perfect people who think he's decent and good and who don't know that he'd sold his soul to make the pain stop. And what was he going to do because there was no way out?

Cedric's voice came to him. _"Time. He left you time, CJ. He left you four years. Use the time. Accept the care."_

"I don't deserve it." He cried out loud; arms wrapped around him, holding him tight, voices argued with his claim.

"_You will find a way. You will. In the meantime, accept what they offer. They will save you."_

CJ gave in, let himself be cared for. But all the while, all he could think about, was that he was already dead.

WWWWWWW

It was four in the morning. Michelle looked down, exhausted, at the heap before her. George was the only person who CJ would let touch him for some time, and it had taken hours of his rocking him gently, even singing to him, before he would let himself be further treated. Alf had helped her; handing her things with steady hands, though his eyes seemed to shake. Molly had come to assist too, Arthur having called in for backup.

Molly had seethed with a white hot rage, Michelle had seen. She remembered hearing stories of how Molly had been, fighting Bellatrix Lestrange; well, her family was being attacked again, and Michelle thought that perhaps the finest punishment would have been forcing Amos to succumb to the woman beside her.

But now Molly had gone home, and CJ finally slept, the deep sleep of Healing, and George slept, his arms wrapped protectively around the child, and Alf slept, on the other side of George, nearby if anybody needed him. But Michelle was wired and angry and anxious, and sleep wasn't going to come easy.

Beside her, the cat Rufus watched her, sensing her mood. "Are you channeling your canine namesake?" She asked the feline, who gave her a throaty purr, and who blinked up at her. And then the cat lept down, walked out the door, and turned to look at her, enticing her to follow.

Follow she did, though she didn't know to what purpose. But the cat walked straight to Michelle's bag, the one she'd brought with her for the week's visit. And leaping on to it, the cat began to nuzzle at a stack of papers.

Her manuscript. The one which had caused so much commotion earlier. Gently moving the cat, she picked it up out of the bag. She never traveled without it; it was one of her most prized possessions.

With a sigh, and a grumble, she tore off the post script, and placed it safely in her teaching textbook. Then, grabbing her wand, she turned around, suddenly quite certain of what she needed to do. Rufus, without question, followed close at her heels.

WWWWWWW

She made certain she made noise as she forced her way in past Harry's back door. She wanted him awake, and woe be it to him if he tried to hex her, bloody wizard-savior or not. There was a quick pop, and Harry had in fact apparated down stairs.

"Lumos!" She said, and stared him down in the midst of the kitchen.

Harry's hair was wild and his glasses askew. "What…are YOU…doing here?" He snarled.

"Bringing you this!" She slapped the manuscript down on the table. "I took the liberty of removing the very personal post script George had written to me from it. Otherwise, take it; keep it; burn it. Whatever makes you happy. Might be nice if you read it first. Because if you do you'll see that nobody ever respected your wish to be normal more than George." She turned to go.

"Why are you doing this?" Harry asked, puzzled.

She looked back from the doorway. "Because I want you to find it in your miserable heart to forgive him for whatever heinous transgression you find in George amusing himself with tales of his loved ones while he was in exile. Because right now George is trying to save CJ Diggory's life after the kid has been nearly cursed to death by his own father, and he's got enough to worry about. Because I love him, and it tears me up to see him hurt by somebody he really considers a brother." She sighed. "Because it's my fault I brought it up." She added, miserably. "And George has enough to handle right now."

With those final words, Michelle turned and walked back into the night, a black cat never leaving her side.


	20. Ch 20 Vows

George woke up at 6am, with the sun just peaking over the horizon. He was stiff and cramped and it took him a second to remember why. Then he realized: he was sleeping on a twin bed, with two twelve year old boys; one a child who had been magically brutalized nearly to death, and the other his own son who had been absolutely terrified at the thought of losing one of his best friends.

He looked down at CJ. The boy was still pale, his face still pinched in pain, though the trembling had stopped at some point, and he was no longer rambling about not deserving to be there. What in the hell had Amos Diggory done to the boy psychologically to make him think he didn't deserve to be cared for like any child?

Alf was curled into a ball at the foot of the bed now. He'd been unwilling to leave George's side last night. Carefully George extricated himself from between the two boys. He took a moment to stretch and then reached over and lifted Alf into his own bed; the kid was so tired he barely stirred. He came back over to CJ and coaxed another dose of Fleur's elixir down his throat, and the pinched look faded from his face. All was well so far.

He found Michelle sound asleep on his bed...their bed...sprawled on top of the covers, still fully clothed. He had no clue what time she'd finally gone to bed, but suspected it was pretty late. He covered her with a throw and kissed her gently; she smiled and rolled over fast asleep, so he decided just to go downstairs and make some coffee.

As he got there, though, there was an owl tapping at the window. He took the envelope from it, and saw that it was from his father. Quickly he broke the seal, and read it. And re-read it, frowning. And sighed. Forgetting about the coffee, he came out on to the back porch, rubbing his arms against the April chill, and looking towards Harry's house.

Really he was in no position to ask a favor. But he had to try.

Slowly, he stepped down on to the lawn and walked over to his brother-in-law's place, just as Harry was walking out the front door, evidently headed for work. Fortuitous. Hopefully he wouldn't curse him before he could get a word out.

Harry saw him coming, and didn't seem to be making a move for his wand. He waited for George to approach, his face blank. George took a deep breath. "I don't suppose if I apologize again it will do any good?"

Harry seemed to think for a moment before speaking. "I know you're sorry, George. But I am still pretty unhappy, and I think I have the right to be."

More than he expected. "Fair enough. And given the circumstances, I know I have no right to be asking anything, but I have to do it. CJ Diggory's been gravely injured by his own father."

"I know." George balked in surprise at Harry's response. "You haven't spoken to your fiancée today, have you?"

George shook his head. "Michelle's sound asleep, Harry. It was rather a trying evening."

Harry bent just a little. "How is CJ?" He asked.

"Bad. Ministry says it was an hour of cruciatus, but that's only what can be detected. Michelle suspects it was a lot worse than that."

"Bloody hell." Harry paled; he knew more than most what CJ would have suffered. And then, "Whatever you need from me, George. I'll do it."

George felt intense relief that Harry wasn't holding his own error in judgment against CJ. "Percy told me yesterday that Minister Shacklebolt didn't want CJ brought to St. Mungo's, because he didn't want Amos charged. Or something like that. This morning I got a letter from my father who said Kinsgley wouldn't give him any more details, just that Amos is going to work in eastern Europe as planned. Frankly, Harry, all I care about is making sure he can never get his hands on the boy again. I don't want him to turn around a year from now and pretend nothing happened and be able to get him back because there's no record of what he did."

Harry frowned, which George at first was afraid meant he was refusing to get involved. But then Harry shook his head. "I'm not aware of any particular reason behind this, George. And, though Kinglsey's a more than fair man, I understand too well your reluctance to leave this in ministry hands. I'll see what I can find out for you. No way should Amos ever see custody again."

"Thanks, Harry." George exhaled, and then decided to push his luck. "Can I get you some coffee?"

Harry's eyes came over him, wary and self-protective. "I don't think so, George. I'll help CJ. That's all I can give you for now."

Ouch. "Right." George felt rather stupid suddenly, just standing there. "Er, well then...see you later." And with that he turned and walked slowly back to the house, wondering what he was supposed to do to make this better. He wished it had been Ron he'd pissed off; Ron would just have punched him, and been done with it. This was water torture.

But it didn't so much matter, all things considered at the moment.

WWWWWWW

Alf had felt his father pick him up and put him in bed; he'd been too tired to register much else, and let sleep come back over him. But it was cold; didn't dad cover him up? Too cold for April, really...a frosty chill seemed to settle over him. He blinked his eyes open, shivering, only to discover he was under the covers. And still cold.

He raised his head, and then became very still.

There was a ghost in his room.

Now, two years ago seeing something like this probably would have sent him in to therapy. But he'd been in the magical world for some time now, not to mention at Hogwarts for nearly seven months. He'd seen the ghosts in residence there. But he'd never planned on seeing one in their nice little house in Godric's Hollow.

This ghost was young, didn't look more than eighteen or nineteen. And he was cradling CJ in his arms, rocking him back and forth. And he was crying. CJ didn't seem to mind the cold; it soothed him; and Alf watched as his friend reveled in the attention, how his face eased and became lighter, younger even.

In that moment it became clear to Alf why CJ had always spoken of Cedric Diggory with such emotion, rather strange for a brother dead before his birth. Alf felt reverence for Fred Weasley, but CJ had often spoken about Cedric as if he were a real presence in his life. Well, looked like Cedric _was_ a real presence; Cedric clearly loved CJ dearly. Which also answered another long-wondered question of his, namely, how had CJ ended up relatively sane growing up in such horrible circumstances?

"I won't do it, Ced. I promised you I won't and I won't. But I don't know what to do." CJ murmured.

"Hush, child." Cedric stroked CJ's head with great tenderness. "We'll find you an answer. We have four years."

CJ eased the boy back down on to the bed, and levitated lightly above him. Alf sat upright, and felt compelled to speak. "I'll help CJ." He said, quite gravely. "With whatever he needs."

The reaction wasn't quite what he expected; the ghostly presence balked at his voice; pale eyes went wide. And then, with an abrupt whoosh, Cedric's presence was whisked away.

Immediately the room became warmer; and Alf, after a moment's thought, came over to check on CJ. At that second, his friend's eyes blinked open, and the injured boy managed a smile. "I really am here. Thought I was dreaming." CJ murmured.

"Not this time." Alf said, sitting gently on the bed beside him. "This is probably a dumb question, but how do you feel?"

"Not so bad for someone who'd been tortured for eighteen hours." CJ murmured, then tried to rise. Immediately he realized that was a bad idea, and he sank back into the pillow. The fog seemed to fade from his eyes, and he looked scared. "Um, you didn't...nobody was just...I mean, did you see anything..."

"Anything like the ghost of your brother hovering over your bed?" Alf quipped. Then he smiled. "Relax, Ceej, your secret is safe with me. Always wondered how you ended up a decent human being given the shit you've had to put up with in your life. You hungry?"

"Ugh, no..." CJ's nose wrinkled up. "My stomach feels like it's in about a thousand knots." His eyes were veiled for a moment, then he looked up at Alf quite solemnly. "I owe you. I do. And I will repay you, and your Dad, and Professor Fabry. I swear."

"That's nonsense, that is." Alf crossed his arms. "Repay. Bollocks that, and I know my dad would say the same thing."

"He would, and he does." George spoke from the doorway. Alf smiled up at him, though he noticed that his Dad had great circles under his eyes. "Repay me by getting better. That makes me happy."

CJ seemed to hesitate, then he managed another smile, though his eyes remained veiled. "I will repay you, though." He said, quietly. "You'll just never know it."

George was measuring out another dose of medicine. "Be all cryptic if you choose to. I am telling you, you healthy and happy is all I want."

CJ took the medicine and welcomed the release it gave him, as he sank back in to sleep. Four years was a long time. And he would find an answer.

Or, literally, he would die trying.

WWWWWWW

"And that's all you'll tell me, Kinglsey? Classified mission?" Harry sat in the relatively spartan office now favored by the most current ministry of magic. He considered Shaklebolt a decent man, a man of integrity and conviction. A one-hundred percent improvement over Cornelius Fudge, who'd been weak, and Rufus Scrimgeour, who'd been ruthless. So he found the man's evasion on the status of Amos Diggory to be frustrating.

"I trust you, Harry." Kingsley said. "But I know George Weasley is a good friend of yours..." Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "...and that you will feel obligated to share information with him. All I can tell you is that we need Diggory in Eastern Europe right now. I am having him watched. He will have no contact with the boy, I can assure you."

Harry watched Kingsley. He knew things were rather touchy over there right now. Rumors of an uprising, of a new dark wizard...it was enough to make his head, if not his scar, hurt. He never wanted to see any nonsense like he'd grown up through happen again. But how an insane English ambasador who tortured his own kid for kicks was going to make it better was beyond his guess. "Can I get from you a legal renunciation of Diggory's parenting rights?"

"You have my word." Kingsley said.

"I beg your pardon, Sir, but that's not enough." Harry kept his glance unwavering as Kingsley balked at his comment. "You are talking to _me_, Sir. And although I believe in you and in the job you've done, I've seen other ministers come and go. And if something were to happen to you, your word wouldn't be worth much, would it?"

Kingsley then gave him a wry smile. "Touché, Harry. Very well, I will get a legal decree. And I guarantee you that I would see Amos in a special ward at St. Mungo's, at the very least, if not for this very delicate work we're trying to accomplish. And maybe he can redeem himself in some way." Kingsley looked over at the briefcase Harry had with him, and noted a stack of papers. "Light reading, my friend?"

Harry scowled, wishing Kingsley hadn't reminded him. "Another ruddy manuscript on my life. This one by my so called friend George Weasley."

Kingsley looked curious. "Surprising, Harry. He certainly doesn't need to earn money off of your name. Is it any good?"

"I don't plan on _reading_ it!" Harry scathed.

"Then why are you carrying it around?"

A very good question indeed, Harry realized.

WWWWWWW

Cedric Diggory sat beside Fred Weasley, his head in his hands. Fred was doing his best to console him, although honestly he wasn't sure what Cedric was so wound up about. He'd understood, of course, Cedric's rush out yesterday, his frantic aim to protect his tormented brother. THAT anguish was entirely expected; Fred himself had paced restlessly until he'd seen young CJ whisked into George's protective arms.

He was prouder of George in that moment then he ever had been before...and he'd been proud of him many times. Sometimes Fred wondered if he had lived, if he would have ever been half the man George had become. He'd said as much once to Ced, which had resulted in him getting cuffed on the head, and Cedric pointing out that as Fred was perpetually frozen at the age of twenty, it was hardly fair to compare himself to his brother who'd had to grow up.

But Cedric had come back from comforting CJ...though not as soon as Fred had expected, given his disappearance, and was now sobbing relentlessly. "CJ will be fine..." Fred tried again. "George will take care of him."

Cedric finally lifted his head, and looked Fred in the eye, shaking his head. "You don't know everything, Fred. And I...can't tell you what I would wish to."

"Understood." The rules of this place were frustratingly stupid sometimes, but somehow Fred was prohibited from interfering in how events might play out down there. Cedric could comfort CJ, and help CJ find his path, but could not prevent his father from doing terrible damage. "But you understand it, Ced, and you'll be there for him."

"No, I won't." Cedric's color left him. "That's the thing, see. I can't go back. Not ever. I broke the rules, Fred."

Fred looked over to his monitor, where he could see George making coffee and Alf picking at his breakfast. They had left CJ to sleep, so he was no longer visible to Fred. "What could you have done?"

"I let Alf see me." Cedric replied. "You noticed, before...that he spotted me. Saw me with CJ. Well, when I was given permission to try to save CJ, I had rules. I wasn't a regular ghost, not like Nearly Headless Nick or the Fat Friar. Not everyone could see me. I could make myself known to CJ and the house elves, and I could try to make contact with my father...but the stupid man wouldn't let me in. Nobody else...nobody...was supposed to see me. Alf did. The minute that connection was made...whoosh.. Back here. For good. What am I supposed to do, Fred? CJ is going to think I abandoned him!"

"Bloody hell!" Fred scowled. Why did the afterlife have to be just as confusing, if not more so, than the life they'd left behind? "Wait...but I can tell George...in his dreams. I can explain to him what happened. It won't get you back there, but we can feed information that way."

There was a distinct rumble, as if of thunder. Fred and Cedric looked about, and then at each other. "Or apparently not." Fred continued.

"Wouldn't work, anyway. Your brother would probably think CJ was nutters. I mean, YOU had a hard time picturing me as a ghost, why would George?" Cedric hung his head, then lifted it. "What about Alf? Could you get a message through to Alf?"

Fred considered that, but had to reluctantly shake his head. "I didn't know Alf in life, CJ. I can't connect with him in dreams the way I do with George." Then, slowly, a light came in to his eyes. "But maybe...just maybe...there is someone who can."

WWWWWWW

Harry was in his office, listlessly thumbing over that manuscript. He shouldn't read it. Screw George and his insensitivity. Like he wanted his deepest darkest secrets out there. Okay, so maybe George never intended them to be 'out there', but still! Harry huffed and threw the sheaf of papers down once more.

Ginny had, once they'd calmed poor Dudley and Kim down (they somehow decided the fight was all their fault), tried to talk him in to going over to speak with George. THAT had pissed him off; how could she not back him up? Ginny had pointedly informed him that she'd stood beside him publicly and always would, but that she still reserved the right to tell him when he was over-reacting to something. So his mood when he saw George this morning was rather more contrite, but still fairly pissed off.

The floo sprung to life, and Harry turned, to see Ron's face in the flames. "Hey, Ron."

"Don't 'hey Ron' me, Harry." Ron scowled. "What's this between you and George?"

Harry's face fell; the trouble with being a Weasley, by marriage or birth, was that there were no secrets and information flew faster than an Owl. "That's exactly what it is, Ron...between George and I."

"Right oh. Just thought I'd take a few minutes to point out that it's usually my job to be stubborn and difficult, not yours. Oh, and if it is between the two of you, then I suggest _the two of you_ work it out, instead of you torturing him by giving him the cold shoulder." Ron huffed lightly. "Look, nobody knows more than me how hard it always was to get something on the twins...and George alone isn't any different. But did he really write anything that bad?"

"I...wouldn't...know." Harry seethed. "I am not reading it. I'm NOT."

"Right. So you're pissed at him because he isn't publishing something that you're not reading." He nodded slowly. "Next time you accuse me of being obtuse, I'm going to pull this one out on you." And with that, Ron vanished.

Oh, for the love of...

Harry picked up the manuscript, and flipped open to the first page.

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

Day three of what may be a new life. Or, roughly 1400 days left until I either die or find a way out of the mess I am now in.

Oh, but let me explain.

Dear Father either wised up to the fact that eventually I would grow up and turn my back forever on his Weasley-hating neurosis, or decided to hedge all his bets. And wouldn't you know it, the man found himself an ally! Yes, the old boy found himself somebody who hates the Weasleys nearly as much as he does, only the ruddy bloke isn't criminally insane and therefore could clearly come up with a plan to utilize me to destroy them. My dumb luck.

Father came home the other day with a house guest, though I didn't see him at first. No, father came up to my room and cursed me, ten minutes on and ten minutes off, from roughly 6pm until midnight. _After_ he turned me into a pathetic pile of goo praying for death, he introduced me to his new buddy. One Lucius Malfoy. Now, considering that at the time I was in less than good health, I may have missed something, but from what I could understand not only does Lucius hate the Weasleys going back years, he now considers himself alienated from his only son because of them. This being the wizard who helped invent the potion that cured Alf.

After explanations, I endured I don't know how many more hours of pain. Never thought it would end, really; I actually thought he might kill me this time. Finally I was begging for death, or any kind of release. Which is what he wanted; after I was reduced to nothing, he had me make an unbreakable vow. Two of them, actually, witnessed by Malfoy. The first, being that I would never say a word of any vow to anybody, and the second, that I must destroy Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes before my sixteenth birthday.

I barely knew what I was doing at the time; I just knew I was in hell and this was the only way out. I felt sick about it afterwards, especially when he then continued to curse me anyway. And then, after Malfoy disappeared, he dragged me outside, so that he could continue to curse me and be caught, thus leaving me in the care of the people I am now literally bound to destroy.

Cedric promised me help, but I'm not even sure how often he can come to me here. And without Cedric, I don't know what I will do.

Funny thing is, I'm not entirely sure this is binding. I mean, can an unbreakable vow be given under duress? Only, I can't exactly ask, can I? I suppose I could ask...and then I could either fall over dead when it turned out that the vow counted, or keep going because it didn't.

Anyway, what I decided is I have four years. Four years to find a solution to this problem. And for those four years, I will let myself be a part of this family. I'm owed that; it's the only family I've ever come close to having. And if, at the end of those four years, I have no answer, then I will die. But at least I will have had the four years.

Later...

PS...

On a lighter note...George Weasley is beside himself. He went over yesterday to pick up my things from the house and discovered that now he is in possession of three house elves. Dixie, Dexter, and Delwyn are of course free elves, but they promised my mother on their death bed they would do what they could for me, and they see no reason to stop just because I've gone to live somewhere else. I'm still not strong enough to get out of bed, so Alf runs up to report to me on the havoc they are causing. The three of them managed to survive my father, but if they keep messing with George's kitchen, they may discover real rage!

WWWWWWW

George was surprised to see Harry coming over to him as he worked in the Garden. He hadn't spoken to him in two days, unless one counted getting an owl from him stating that CJ was safe. He felt strangely wistful as Harry approached, and he rose, dusting his hands off.

"Hey, George." Harry said, looking a little guilty. "I, um…here." He handed over a tray of plants. "Heirloom tomatoes. Thought you'd like them for the garden." George accepted the gift, more than a little surprised, and looked up at Harry, eyebrows raised.

"Alright, I'm _sorry_." Harry blurted out. "I was a real idiot, worse than Ron during the tri-wizard tournament. And I'd like you guys to come over for dinner tonight…if CJ's up for it. Please."

George felt a smile tugging at his mouth. "I wouldn't say you were _worse_ than Ron, Harry. Just as bad, maybe, but not _worse._" He placed the plants on the nearby workbench. "I honestly never intended to hurt you, you know."

"I know…I read it." Harry was now blushing slightly. "All these years and I never really thought anybody _got it_, anybody really understood what I felt like, living on Privet Drive and then suddenly finding out everything I thought I knew was a lie, and how I tried to fit in." Harry was spiking his hair up nervously. "But you did, George. Even the stuff that I didn't think I ever really said to anybody. I mean…" Harry paused, looking George in the eye. "Thank you."

This was beyond unexpected, and George didn't quite know what to say. He looked about the back yard for a second, and then met his brother-in-law's eye. "Harry, Fred and I always thought of you as another brother. Not like we needed more, but we did. You were never some wizard savior to us." George smirked. "In fact, sometimes we even liked you better than our own brothers…I still can't believe they made Ron a prefect!"

That got a laugh from Harry, and he shook his head. "I can't believe what I'm going to say next, George. You are going to think I've gone barmy. But, first, I actually did give Dudley and Kim the manuscript. After cautioning Dudley that he doesn't exactly come off like prince valiant."

"Ugh…forgot about that!" George rubbed at his face. "But if it helps Hal…"

"Oh it will. But also, well, I asked Kingsley to read it. He seems to think that you should publish."

George nearly fell over. "Excuse me?"

"Publish it muggle, as it were. Maybe change some names. But he thinks it's the most marvelous muggle-magic bridge that could ever have been created. Oh, and he'd like you to do some more, as well." Harry shrugged. "When I gave it to the minister, I was frankly hoping he'd tell me it wasn't really as good as I was thinking it was. But George, it's genius."

They stared at each other for a good two minutes, before George burst out laughing. "Of all the unlikely things, Harry…"

"I know." Harry said. "So…you will come to dinner? Ginny's cooking isn't QUITE as good as yours."

"Tell Ginny I'll bring a pie. And the first draft of the second manuscript." George called out after Harry's retreating back.

Harry turned slowly. "You have book two already_ started?_"

George shrugged modestly, but his eyes twinkled. "It hardly seemed prudent to tell you before!


	21. Ch 21 Early Returns

Fred Weasley was perfectly happy with the afterlife as he'd found it. Which is not to say that he'd wanted to die, but that given no option, this place was about as tops as he could have hoped for.

He'd gotten to meet and hang out with his crazy uncles, Gideon and Fabian, and a whole slew of other Weasley and Prewitt relatives he'd always wondered about. He had a chance to chat with Harry's parents, to hang with the almighty creators of the Marauder's Map, to play pranks with Tonks. Dumbledore introduced him to a hidden supply of lemon drops, and he played Quidditch with some of the all-time greats.

But there were things about this place that took getting used to. One was the rules...there were ways to behave, especially when interacting with the world _down there_. Now, Fred had never been particularly good at following rules, but in the circumstances he really had no choice.

The other oddity was that there seemed to be two kinds of people around here. There were _waiting room _people, and _complete_ people. In other words, there were those whose lives had been ripped from them in an untimely fashion. Not people who had unfinished business; let's face it, nearly everyone who ever passed on had unfinished business. But people whose deaths were not in the grand fabric, who had been expected to live for a long time to come. Those were the people who frequented the waiting room, who had family they still hoped to in some way nurture, who had a role that was still to be fulfilled in some way in the other world. They were the people, as well, who had the hardest time of letting go of that world.

Fred was, obviously, a waiting room person.

Most murder victims, even those who died in battle, were. Fred knew now that the plan for him had been to have a long life, to raise his son after Katie's death, and to be a guiding force within the rest of his family. It couldn't happen, and when his life had been ripped from the fabric, it had altered other threads as well. Hence the reason he was so strongly drawn to the waiting room.

The Potters had been waiting room people, until Harry's own death and return. Now they were complete, people who could quite easily never set foot in the waiting room again, except to perhaps escort a loved one on to a train.

Harry now, Harry had been a _boomerang_. Someone who'd arrived in an untimely fashion and who was able to go back. Come to think of it, Alf was a boomerang too.

_Ghosts_ were what happened when waiting room people never made it to the complete stage. For Cedric, he'd had special permission to interact as a ghost, but had exceeded his bounds.

All very complicated, Fred thought. And sometimes there were people who were complete that didn't much make sense to him. One of them being Katie Bell.

Katie had, it turned out, always been meant to die at the age that she did. Whether she had returned to the wizarding world to marry Fred and raise Alf, or whether things had happened the way they did, she would have passed on in 2008. It frustrated him sometimes; it had always seemed to him that she ought to be coming to the waiting room with him, to watch their son and see how well he was doing. But when he told her that, she'd just smile sweetly and tell him that she knew Alf was doing well, she could feel it, but that her job was done.

He rather hoped that the conversation he was about to have was different.

He found himself, as he thought of Katie, strolling across the Hogwarts grounds, in the great expanse of fields by the lake. It was how he most fondly pictured Katie, and therefore how he often met her. The earth felt solid under his feet; the breeze that lifted his hair was fresh and fragrant with heather. He could easily pretend he was still alive, pretend he was back at school, except for the relative quiet and the feeling of peace.

Katie was waiting for him, as beautiful as she'd been her sixth year, sitting under a tree, one knee drawn up to her chin, staring calmly over the expanse of water. He, on impulse, conjured a bouquet of flowers, as he'd so often done in life, and presented it to her with a bow.

"Dear Fred!" She giggled, accepting the daisies with a smile. Naturally one of them proceeded to squirt water at her. "I would have expected no less!" She laughed.

"Katie girl." He sat next to her and kissed her cheek. "How is it going with you?"

She smiled brightly. "Wonderful. Calm. No more pain."

He squeezed her hand. "I am glad to hear it." They sat for a few moments, as a great heron swooped over and captured a fish. "Katie...I have something I must ask you...a favor."

"You need me to contact Alf." Her placid gaze met his. "I _can_ still feel him, you know. And I can feel you too...your desire to help him. And those around him." She sighed a little. "I know you wonder how I could let go, Fred. But I had to...it was time. And, it was necessary; Alfred needed to bond with George, and he could not have done so with me always in his head. It isn't like you, when you left George; that was never supposed to happen."

"But will you do it now?" Fred asked, urgently. "Because there are things going on down there that certainly can't be part of the fabric. Bad things, though I don't understand it all. And we...I need to get this message through."

She squeezed his hand. "Of course I will. I quite agree with you...for Alf's future, all this is necessary." She kissed his cheek. "Tell me what I must do."

Relieved, Fred sat back and began to explain the situation of CJ Diggory.

WWWWWWW

The Dursley's bags were packed. It was the end of their little vacation and they were flying back to America, although not, as Hal had asked hopefully, "on a broom?" It had been a good week, an eventful one, and one where Harry could honestly say he had perhaps buried the last of the shadows of his past. He had a living relative he could count as a friend. That was, for him, a first.

Dudley was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and one of George's killer pastries. "Shouldn't be eating this." He mumbled. "Been so good on my diet recently." He dabbed at a few flakes left on his chin. "But damn, that George can cook."

"Cook, write...I'm beginning to hate him." Harry quipped. Seeing Dudley's alarm he quickly added, "Not really, Dudley. He's been a terrific friend, although I maybe didn't appreciate it earlier in the week."

"Right. Can see that, really, the Weasleys were your family more than we ever were." Dudley rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, then chuckled. "Reading through that manuscript, I can understand why they set that trick candy on me!"

Harry cringed a little. "George is really sorry about that now, Dudley..."

"Oh, I know!" Dudley looked seriously at Harry. "Like I'm sorry my family didn't do better by you, and that I was such a little shite."

"I don't blame _you_." Harry said quickly. "Your parents taught you to loathe me, and then to fear me. You grew up, and you changed how you thought about things. That _says_ something Dudley!"

"Arr." Dudley grunted, sounding a bit like his father as he did so. "Doesn't say much for my parents, though. Look at you, taking care of Teddy Lupin. Look at George there, taking in that Diggory boy. Neither of you resenting that."

Harry paused, thoughtfully. The old vision of how Severus Snape died came back to him, the sight of two sisters playing together who used to be close, and who were broken apart by jealousy over magical talents. Aunt Petunia had loved her sister, loved her so much she wanted to be like her, and never recovered from knowing they were doomed to be different. Love and hate, he knew, were sometimes not so far apart.

"Dudley...Before you go...I think there's a story I have to tell you..." And slowly, Harry began to explain, about Lily, about Petunia, and a boy named Severus Snape.

WWWWWWW

George Weasley was at the Leaky Cauldron on a lunch break. With him were Percy, Oliver Wood, and, of all people, Viktor Krum. They had corresponded, the three of them, ever since George had made a promise to Angelina Morgainne. And they had involved Lee Jordan as well, because of Lee's travels.

"How is it looking on your end, Viktor?"

The former world-class seeker, now retired, rubbed at his face. "It is very...how you say...neb-you-luss." He dragged the last word out. "My contacts say Matthias lives, but is held deep in the wilds."

"Aye, that's what I've heard too." Wood added. "But we may have an advantage. The turmoil there...there are warring factions among the wizards. Two evenly matched forces."

"Both poised to fall." Percy added, his eyes squinting slightly. "So we've heard. There may be a third party underground, willing to rise up. A party friendly to England."

George looked around the assembly. Each of them had half-touched plates of food and nearly empty pints of ale before them. "Two dark sides canceling each other out. Do we know which dark side has Morgainne prisoner?"

"The Masakenese are believed to be holding him, in a watery dungeon on the bottom of Lake Victoria." Krum spoke. "Not far from where a certain international Qudditch match is due to be held."

They all came to the same thought: the Masakana party was pushing the upcoming Uganda-New Zealand match as a way to legitimize its stronghold on Ugandan's Wizarding populace. The Jinjani's would do anything to disrupt the match. Lee Jordan would, no doubt, be calling the event. It would be the ideal time for any kind of rescue to happen.

The match was in two weeks.

"George Weasley..." Krum spoke slowly, using his full name, as he always did. "You have now, I think, a family...as does Oliver Wood. As does Percy Weasley." Krum crumbled a bit of bread thoughtfully in to his stew. "I have no family. Da, _I go._"

"Shaddup..."

"Don't know what yer about, Krum..."

"Hardly advisable..."

"DA!" Krum raised one hand authoritatively, and they all grew quiet. "I go with Lee Jordan. This already we have planned. You all, much needed information have you found for us. Much insight have you given us. But for this mission, no family man should risk his life. This, I think, Matthias Morgainne would agree with."

George was almost ashamed to admit it, but what he felt most was relief. It was true that he hadn't even so much as discussed this with Michelle, because he could be fairly certain what her reaction would be. And Alf, plus now CJ Diggory, depended on him. NEEDED him. He was not the man he was two years ago. And though a part of him wanted to play the hero on this, he was old enough and mature enough to recognize that there were different types of heroes.

"Alright." George finally said, giving in. "What do you need from me? Any product, any self defense item...we still have quite a bit of stuff in stock from the Voldemort days."

Krum's eyes gleamed. "Peruvian Darkness powder. That, I think, would come in quite handy. And perhaps an item or two more..."

"Done." George nodded. "Perce, can you make sure that Viktor can get the goods out of the country without any awkward questions?"

Percy gave a thin smile. "I think I can be arranged to be the ministry official on duty when Viktor leaves."

Oliver sighed. "Very well then...let's meet again tomorrow to go over a final plan. Does Angelina know about this?"

"No." George said quickly. "I don't want to get her hopes up."

Oliver nodded. "Probably wise."

WWWWWWW

This was a dream. Alf knew it was a dream because of how it played out. Firstly, he was back in Sheffield, which he never had any desire to see again. Second, he felt younger, lighter almost. Third, he was on a broom, and he knew his Dad would vivisect him if he ever caught him flying outside of a sanctioned area!

He landed in his old back yard. And somehow knowing what he was going to find, he seemed to glide forward in to the back door, to the kitchen.

His mum was waiting for him.

He didn't speak at first, and then ran to her, burying his head against her sweater, smelling the aroma of her perfume. She embraced him, and warmth filled him, the memory of her love strong as steel and soft as silk. He felt her press her lips against his head, and he wanted to never let go.

But he knew that wasn't an option. This was a dream like one of the ones his Dad had talked to him about, a dream that really wasn't a dream, but a connection. And as he let go and moved to the chair opposite her, he knew she was with him for a reason. Still, there was one thing he had to know.

"You're not in pain anymore, are you, mum?" Those last weeks had been horrible, horrible for him to watch, as the disease destroyed his mother's body and spirit together.

"No, love...there is no pain where I am." She smiled, and lifted his chin gently. "You were the best son a mother could have, Alf, and I am so happy to know that you and George have done well together. He does love you."

"And I him." Alf said, nodding shortly. "Wish I could have known him earlier..." He hurried on, not wanting to fight. "...but I know you just wanted to do what you thought best."

"Yes. Sometimes what we think is best isn't. That was one of those times." She gave him the sad smile. "I hope _this_ isn't one of them. Because I have information for you, my son. Information about your friend CJ Diggory."

Alf nodded; it seemed unsurprising to him that this would happen. CJ was the one he'd seen with the closest spiritual world connection, even more than his Dad. Perhaps there was a way to help him being offered. Alf certainly knew he'd try anything to help his friend.

"Alright." He sat back. "Tell me what's up."

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

Back at school from break for the first day. Everyone here is under the impression that I'm recovering from a sudden illness, and that's the reason I look a bit peaked. Heck, even some of the hard core seventh year Slytherins keep coming up to me to see if I'm doing okay. Apparently I look really terrible.

Which is pretty funny, as comparatively I look great. If they'd seen me the first day I was at the Weasley's they'd have been preparing my memorial service.

The last day in Godric's hollow, Alf, Teddy and I had a long conversation. Actually, Alf and I had spoken first, and the decision was made to bring Teddy completely in the loop on my situation. Teddy was horrified, as best evidenced by the fact that his face changed in to something resembling werewolf. Alf says it's something he's always been capable of, but which he only brings out when he's really pissed off. In any event, safe to say my father was probably lucky not to be around at the time.

When I say "bring Teddy in the loop," I mean that now he's totally in the loop, about everything including Cedric (that is, everything I can afford to talk about). The talk Alf and I had that morning had grown out of a dream he'd had about his Mum. My brother, it seems, has now been banned from visitng me again.

It really upset me when Alf first told me. And I'm still hoping that it was a regular dream, not a channeling of the other side. But I doubt it. Alf's got plenty of sense when it comes down to things, and he'd know the difference.

It hurts to think I won't see Cedric again, and scares me to think that I'm up against these horrible vows on my own. I had been counting on his help. But perhaps, if Alf is correct, Cedric will be able to feed me information in other ways. Besides, I still _feel_ him beside me. I can't see him, can't talk with him, but I know he's there. He always will be.

Which of course brings me to the problem that won't go away. I've been thinking about it hard, and going over the wording on those vows. It's hard to remember them perfectly, but I'm pretty sure the words my father had me use was that I should never "speak a word of these vows to anyone." I sense a loop hole, there; theoretically it should be possible for me to write down what happened and give it to somebody...say, George Weasley...to read. Only...here's the thing. I am _pretty sure_ of what I heard. But I'd just endured over twelve hours of torture. So I'm not positive.

And if I were right, I'm still not sure what exactly this means. Do unbreakable vows bind intent? Do they follow the letter of the law, or the spirit? Worse, as far as I can tell the only way I have to see if my theory is right, is to turn around and tell somebody, and hope I don't drop dead. That's a pretty bleak prospect if I'm wrong. It's not like there's any cure for death.

I explained what I could to Teddy and Alf. They knew, they sensed that there was something going on that I wouldn't tell them. I told them I wouldn't, because I couldn't, and asked them to trust me. To my shock they did. In any event, what I did tell them was that there might be times when I might be researching something, or ask their help looking something up, that might not make much sense to them. They both readily agreed, with one caveat...we need to involve Eileen as well. Fine by me...she sometimes in her Hufflepuff purity cuts right to the heart of the solution when the rest of us are overanalyzing the problem.

Speaking of Eileen, I had that dream again. The one where I live to have a future. Only it was clearer, and more detailed. I knew, for instance, that I was two years past Hogwarts, and had just completed field work in care of magical creatures. The job I was taking on from Alf's dad involved expanding the store to include a larger menagerie of magical beings.

Other things I learned from this dream: Alf was studying Bio-chemical engineering at Oxford, as part of a magical-muggle fusion program, a way to provide cross-over between the worlds (with the knowledge of a handful of intuitive muggles). The theory being to bring magical practices to muggle science, in the hopes of advancing their disease research. Given how Alf's mum died, it seems entirely logical he would choose to pioneer this field. He is in fact engaged to Eileen at that moment, not just dating her.

Teddy will be brilliant and daring. Even while lounging in the store, he exuded the looks and confidence of a cursebreaker, and a man who had women falling at his feet. Which is why Alf and I, apparently, will be relentlessly teasing him about the fact that he had to beg Victoire to date him.

Something else I realize...Victoire in the dream has just graduated Hogwarts, and her best friend is my girlfriend. Whose name I still don't know.

One thing stood out, though. It was _the _store, the one I am currently sworn to destroy, and yet it wasn't. It was bigger, brighter, and crazier. Like instead of destroying it, I have improved it. It my dreams it flourishes, a living testimony to the man...men, I guess...who created it. I suppose that is wishful thinking on my part, that I should not only live to survive this vow, but totally refute it in every way.

But the dream gives me hope, and I cling to it. With Cedric gone, it's really all I have left.

WWWWWWW

Two weeks after break had ended, in the midst of preparing final exams and finalizing wedding plans, a worn out Michelle Fabry found herself in the least likely of places...Angelina Morgainne's private quarters. They had formed an uneasy truce since Christmas, but to have the potion's professor come up to her and ask her if she wanted to come by to listen to the Uganda-New Zealand match on her wireless, was beyond stunning. So stunning, she found herself saying yes, despite the fact that unless Alf were playing, she really wasn't much of a Quidditch fan at all.

Half an hour in to the match, Angelina had stopped pacing with frustration over play she considered inferior, and had settled down with a glass of wine beside Michelle, half smirking as old friend Lee Jordan continued calling the play. "Did you know anyone who's on the Ugandan team?" Michelle asked, as she picked at the spicy chicken dip the house elves had created.

"No...there was a complete turnover when the last regime was overthrown a year ago." Angelina gave a shrug and a grimace. "I have no rooting interest, I suppose, save that I doubt that if New Zealand loses, any of their players will find themselves being fed to lions."

Ugh. Michelle didn't think Angelina was kidding, either. And the game was being played with the appropriate amount of fierceness, considering. Though there were lulls, and no word on the snitch. Angelina suddenly turned the conversation from sports.

"Alfred shows quite a lot of promise in potions." It came up as an off-hand comment, though Angelina did cast Michelle a sideways glance as she threw it out there.

"He's a very smart kid." Michelle agreed. "He's shown some skills with healing, as well."

They lapsed once more in to silence as New Zealand was denied on an apparently spectacular save by Uganda. Then Angelina returned to the boy once more. "His mother also had that talent." A pause. "I think she would have liked you."

Michelle turned to look at Angelina in full. So little had she heard about Alf's mother from anyone. That was more understandable now that she knew that George had not been romantically involved with Katie. Still, she was in a situation where she was about to become a step-mother to a twelve year old boy. The more she could learn about Katie Bell, the better, she believed, her relationship with Alf would be. "I am glad you think so. She must have been a good mother."

Angelina inclined her head thoughtfully. "Katie may not have done the best by him in how she chose to raise him, but I cannot fault her for that. We were all scared in those days, and then with Fred dying...she did what she had to for her child."

"Especially with Alf being little more than a squib." Michelle added, only to turn and see Angelina gape at her.

"WHAT?" She gasped.

Stunned, Michelle began explaining the story as George had been able to piece it together, the attack by Katie's mother (without Katie's knowledge), the frightening thought of what would happen to her squib son in the magical world...and the dosing of Alf with an experimental potion that nearly killed him, even as it restored his magic. "But surely you knew some of this? It was in his dossier?"

Angelina shook her head. "I didn't read the dossiers...I didn't want to prejudice my opinions on the students." They stared at each other, and then Angelina gave a wry and bitter smile. "Of course, I did do exactly that anyway, didn't I?" She sighed. "Poor Katie. This makes Alf's performance all the more remarkable, though."

"I don't suppose you plan on telling him he doesn't suck?" Michelle joked.

"Naturally not. I have a reputation to uphold!" But she winked.

At that moment Lee Jordan's voice boomed from the radio.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, it's pandemonium on the field. Entire areas of the city are rumored to be enveloped in darkness, and there are explosions happening everwhere, including right here at the stadium..." _There was a distant boom in the background, and a cacophony of orchestral music. _"It seems to be fireworks, not bombs...great exploding blossoms of color, accompanied by music...quite stunning, actually, a first rate display...seems to have taken the Ugandans off guard, though..."_

Lee's fellow commentator piped in.

"_What exactly is that music? Can you tell?"_

"_Bless me, It's a bagpipe march to Amazing Grace...heck, there's actual singing...brilliant line about being lost and then found, I've always thought...and here come the Ugandan ministry, but this is going to take some doing to control..."_

Angelina snapped off the radio. "Fools and idiots those wizards are, always trying to kill each other!"

Michelle was pale, with two red splotches of color having come up on her cheeks. "Doesn't sound to me like they're trying to kill each other." She rose. "And I thank you for the hospitality, but I do think it's time for me to turn in."

Michelle managed to keep herself composed until she left Angelina's; once the door had closed, she broke in to an all-out run towards her own quarters.

An uprising. In Uganda.

All she knew is, if George wasn't home when she firecalled him, she was going to go to Uganda herself and personally kick his ass!


	22. Ch 22 Towards a Wedding

Author's note: Be advised that there is a definate PG 13 aspect to this chapter!

WWWWWWW

"GEORGE! GEORGE WEASLEY!"

Michelle heard a crash, a yelp, and a string of colorful curses followed by footsteps. A red-faced George appeared in the living room before her, on the other side of the floo flames, one hand wrapped in a towel. His flush of anger went pale as he realized it was Michelle calling him.

"Shell? What is it? Is it Alf?" George stuttered out quickly.

"Alf's fine." Michelle was not about to toy with her fiancé's emotions by being coy. "What the hell's up in Uganda?"

"Oh!" Realization came to George then, and he sat in front of the fireplace, leaning forward so their noses were nearly touching. "Heard about that, did you? Didn't expect you realize, as you don't much follow World Quidditch."

Michelle began to calm, as George was very much there and very much alive. "Angelina, believe it or not, asked me to listen to the match with her."

George's eyebrows rose, and then he frowned. "She doesn't realize..."

"No, and I didn't tell her." Michelle's response was quick. "Didn't want to get her hopes up. So, I was right in recognizing Lee's description of those fireworks, was I? I mean, you are behind this?"

"Glad you didn't say anything to her...it's a rum go as to whether or not the little diversion will work." George exhaled, his bangs puffing up slightly as he did so. "And yeah, I helped plan it...called in a favor from Viktor Krum, because of his international connections, and as you probably guessed, Lee is involved too." A funny gleam came to his eye. "So why, exactly, were you sticking your head in the fireplace and screaming, literally, like a Banshee?"

Michelle blushed. "I just...uh...oh, hell, George, what was I supposed to think!"

The gleam became a twinkle. "I don't know what you were thinking, supposedly or otherwise, as you have not yet told me?"

She pursed her lips, and then grumbled. "Alright, alright, I was _worried_ about you! Are you happy now? I heard _your_ fireworks going off in a country where _you_ had promised to rescue somebody, and I was convinced that _you _were going to get your ruddy head blown off."

"I've already had a ruddy ear blown off. Frankly, I found the process wanting." He smiled, and leaned even closer. "Just how worried were you?"

"Worried enough that if you hadn't answered this call I was going to go to Uganda myself just to kick your ass." She admitted, shaking her head. "It just so seemed like something you would do."

"A bloody good thing I didn't go out for drinks tonight with Ron-you'd be wandering all over Uganda vainly looking for my posterior." He teased her. "And you're right, Shell, it is something I would have done, once. A part of me wanted to go anyway...Percy, Oliver, Lee, Viktor and I all planned it together, but it was Viktor who pointed out rightly that he and Lee didn't have family considerations. And, well...I do."

"Damned straight you do." She said, then noticed fully for the first time his towel covered hand. "What happened there, anyway?"

"I was baking cookies when some crazy lady came screaming through my fireplace, startling me enough to make me drop the tray and try to catch it with my un-gloved hand." His mouth twisted ruefully. "Not a bright move. I don't recommend it."

"Baking cookies?"

"Yes, it seems that THAT is what I do when I am stressed." He unwrapped his hand and looked at the blister that had formed. "I don't suppose you'd care to get yourself over here and kiss it and make it better?" He tilted his head and pouted, though he wiggled his eyebrows in a very playful way.

"George!" Michelle blushed even harder but laughed at the same time. "Honestly, you know I can't do that...there's no way to floo through to a location from Hogwarts, I'm lucky we can firechat!"

"Yet you were willing to go all the way to Uganda to "kick my ass" despite any obstacles, floo or otherwise. And here all I am is asking for a little TLC for an injury I sustained while responding to your urgent call for me, and this is the response I get?" He shook his head.

Michelle looked over her shoulder. "Hold that thought for a second, George...I'll be right back."

She walked away from the floo towards the door.

WWWWWWW

George gave a quiet little sigh as Michelle disappeared from his view, and sat back on his haunches. His hand did hurt, although obviously that was not at all what he had in mind wishing for her to come to him. He missed her, and he needed her, and he loved her, and the tone in her voice when she'd been clearly worried and anxious on his behalf had just driven that home full stop. And the thought of exactly how much he meant to her (he knew full well what she meant to him) had lit him up inside, like the flames of the floo itself.

Funny, he'd spent so long learning to become a single person, learning to become 'just George' that he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be something more. He was tied down now, but he didn't mind that one bit. Not when being tied down meant having Alf for a son and Michelle as a soon-to-be wife. And there was CJ now, too. He was a part of something, on his own and separate from his family, though still belonging to them. He was creating a family of his own, and the happiness that grew in him just from thinking about that warmed him all over.

One of his three damned house elves…Dexter, maybe?...came running up to him. "Dixie is cleaning the master's mess in the kitchen…will Master be needing a treatment for his hand?"

Hell, Dexter sure as heck wasn't the one he wanted kissing his blistered finger and making it better!

"Dexter, CJ is your Master, not me…and thank you for cleaning up the kitchen…but I am quite fine." He huffed lightly. It was unthinkable to him that he would ever possess house elves, though technically he still didn't; what he had, was custody of CJ, and they were part of the package.

"Oh, Dexter knows he is free elf, sir, and that he and his sisters are only bound by honor and love to protect Master CJ. But Master George has also been bound to protect Master CJ, so we will care for Master George."

_Like I haven't heard this before! _George thought, nearly groaning at the earnestness. "Look, Dexter…you're doing a great job, really…and it's been good of you to keep out of the kitchen…why don't you and the girls take a night off? I'm really not much used to being waited on." His eyes gleamed. "Perhaps you should visit the elves at Hogwarts? You do have ways, don't you? Maybe get them to slip CJ and his friends a few treats while they're getting ready for exams. He's probably not eating properly, you know." George lied with a very sincere expression.

"Oh, excellent Master to think of the young ones. And yes, we have our ways, we elves do, of getting to Hogwarts. We have a cousin who is there on staff. Yes, we will make certain that our young ones are being fed!"

With a snap, Dexter was gone, and George felt an uncommon sense of relief. They meant well; that was what he kept telling himself.

Meanwhile, he leaned forward towards the fire. "Shell?" He called out. What in the heck was happening...had it been maybe Angelina at the door, realizing what was going on? That would be incredibly bad. "Shell????" His voice became a tad more urgent.

"Yes, my love?" The voice whispered right behind his ear, and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned and found himself looking in to her eyes. She smiled seductively at him, and took his hand, as he just gaped. "I heard that there was someone here in need of medical assistance." She kissed his blistered hand tenderly, and then with a wave of her wand, made the mark disappear. "Is that the only assistance you require, Mr. Weasley?"

"What...how..." He sputtered out, feeling giddy with excitement, and hell, desire.

She wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him full on the lips. "It took me about three seconds to alert Minerva to the fact that I was going to be required to spend the evening off sight, which she had no problem with. It took me another sixty seconds, once I was out of her eyesight, to dash like hell to beyond the protective boundaries so I could apparate." She reached over and nuzzled up against his scarred wound, placing feathery kisses where his ear ought to have been. She worked her way down his neck, and across his collarbone before finding her way to his good ear, where she repeated herself in a low whisper. "So I ask again, Mr. Weasley...do you require any other assistance?"

George recovered himself enough to give her his naughtiest smile. "Might I suggest that a full exam is in order?"

She playfully pushed him down to the carpet. "Your wish is my command, Mr. Weasley!

WWWWWWW

It was the early hours of the morning when George's eyes drifted open. He was exceedingly grateful for being a wizard; at some point he-or Michelle?-had spelled the living-room floor to be as comfortable as a mattress. Also Michelle-or was it he?-had provided a warming charm, so that despite their paucity of clothing, they weren't either of them chilled. Not that a charm had been necessary for most of the night.

They were still entangled in each other; Michelle's face slightly flushed in her sleep. George spotted her robe in a heap by the fireplace, where she'd discarded it, and he accio'd it, spreading it over her. He was glad it was Sunday and that she'd not have to rush to classes; he rather thought that some nice French toast, well cooked bacon and a bit of orange juice was in order. Though not, perhaps, _quite _yet, as it was only 5am. Still, he was thinking coffee at least, so he began to rise.

The floo suddenly crackled to life, and horrified George grabbed a throw from the sofa and wrapped it around himself.

"Oi, George...you there?" Lee Jordan's face appeared. "Oh...I see you...um...are in fact home..."

George immediately stepped between Michelle's sleeping form and the fireplace, kneeling down and keeping the blanket firmly in place. "What are you doing, ringing in at this hour of the morning?" He hissed out.

"Apparently interrupting you. Sorry." Lee's voice was all laughter and George knew he wasn't sorry at all. "Glad to know you found a way to...er...occupy your time while I was out risking life and limb."

George went to cross his arms defensively and quickly realized that would be a bad idea. "Oh, stuff it, Lee...just tell me what's going on."

"Mission accomplished." Lee beamed. "We got him."

"You...holy shit, Lee, you did it!" George felt a rush of excitement, and then fear. "Is he alive? Are you hurt, you or Viktor? WHAT happened?"

At that moment he felt Michelle stir, and lift her head. "George, what on earth...OH, shit!" She cried, realizing that Lee was, present, even if only by fire-chat; she pulled her robes around her, and got up on her knees, hiding herself behind George. "What is going on?" She asked again, trying to sound nonchalant. George could, however, feel her pulse racing behind him.

"Morgainne is pretty bad off. We're in Tanzania right now, found some wizards who can treat him. Viktor and I managed to get through the chaos unscathed, I'm not even sure if the Ugandan's know he's gone.

"What's wrong with him?" Michelle asked at once, going in to her healing mode.

"He'd been held at the bottom of Lake Victoria for the past year." Lee shuddered slightly. "They administered him an advanced extract of gillyweed...but as you can imagine, a wizard isn't meant to live like a fish for that long. He's having difficulty relearning to use his lungs, but we're working on it."

Michelle peaked around George slightly, leaning towards the floo. "See if they have any yellow-spotted balsa sprouts. Usually found in desert areas. It should be a big assist in helping him recover lung function."

"Thanks...I'll pass that on to the medico's here. We've still got a spot of difficulty, by the way...Tanzania's independent but a bit rogue in terms of the wizarding world. It'll take some work to get him out of here. We're figuring our best shot is via Egypt, but you know how the middle east is right now."

"Lee, whatever you need...money, more fireworks, anything...you just let me know, got it?" George emphasized.

"Got it...I'll just be a tad more circumspect when I call next." He teased. "I better go...and you two can go back to..._whatever_." He tried to look innocent and failed.

"Lee?" Michelle leaned forward. "Thank you for being considerably less of an ass than when I first met you."

He laughed full. "Not a hard standard to surpass, actually. I'll see you two by the wedding, if not before." With a crackle, Lee disappeared.

Quickly George placed a screen in front of the fireplace to prevent any more surprises. Michelle was pulling her robes around her like a bathrobe. "Glad I had this, at least." She joked.

"More than I had handy!" George knotted the throw around his waist. "I do love you." He wrapped his arms around her, sniffing gently at her hair. "I love that you just showed up last night, I love that you stayed, and I love that you aren't completely flipped out by Lee's sudden appearance. I love you full stop."

She looked up at him. "The thought of losing you again scares the hell out of me, George." She said, becoming suddenly serious. "When I thought you might be risking death..." She closed her eyes. "I love you so very, very much." She added, needlessly.

They stayed that way for a few moments, before George relaxed his grip slightly. "Let me make you breakfast...for some strange reason I am totally ravenous. Apparently more exercise than I am used to."

"Clearly you are woefully out of shape." She walked ahead of him and looked back with a wink. "Whatever will we do to get you back in practice?"

WWWWWWW

One week later, Alf was busy in the library, writing to his step-sister, Liv. He'd done his best to keep in touch with her, though writing from Salem had been impossible due to his circumstances. But he had re-established a connection with her once they had returned, and they managed to send letters off to each other at least once a month.

"_Dear Liv,_

_Hope you are doing okay. Our school year is heading for final exams next week, and I really ought to be studying, but my brain can only take so much._

_Once exams are over, I'm home for the summer. My new father, as I mentioned in my last letter, is getting married the first week of vacation. I'm really psyched about it…I like her a lot, she's one of my professors here. She'll never take the place of Mum in my heart, of course…but I think she knows that and she understands. I've gotten to the point where I think of her as a really cool aunt…when I'm not thinking of her as my teacher, that is!_

_I guess what I'm trying to say is, you shouldn't worry so much that your Dad has started dating. I know I had my differences with him, but he really loves you and Len and he wouldn't do anything that would let you get hurt. _

_It does seem funny, doesn't it, that it's been two years since Mum died? Sometimes I feel like I was just with her…(actually I kind of was…if we can see each other over the summer I have got one heck of a story to tell you)…but sometimes I feel like it's been two thousand lifetimes since I left you guys._

_Anyway, I will have my Dad check to see if we can visit. I'm hoping my Dad can convince you to come to Diagon Alley for at least Ice Cream, but if not, Dad's good enough at passing Muggle to bring me to you for a day. Whatever you do , don't let Len torture you…remember, you're the big sister, which means he is supposed to listen to you whether he likes it or not (and I'm sure he doesn't!)._

_Missing you!_

_Alfred."_

A hand touched Alf's shoulder, startling him out of his reverie…he'd been re-reading what he'd written for some time now, though he wasn't sure why. It was Eileen, who immediately took the seat next to him when he'd smiled at her. "You look lifetimes away." She said, sagely.

"A bit. Was thinking of my Mum, I suppose…and how different my life has become so quickly." Alf admitted, looking back down at the letter. "I'm writing to my step-sister, and I feel like there's something wrong with the letter, though I can't figure out what."

"May I?" Eileen asked, and Alf rather reluctantly handed the bit of parchment over. Normally he didn't mind Eileen reading things he wrote, as she was remarkably sensible and pretty sharp about picking things up that he'd missed. But maybe that was what worried him this time; that she could see what he couldn't, and that he ought to, and that he wasn't much going to like it when it was pointed out."

"My Dad's a big Shakespeare fan." She looked at him pointedly.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, totally confused.

"There's a line… 'the lady doth protest too much.' That's you right there, Alf. You're a little to insistent on how much you don't mind that your Dad's getting married, and that you really like Professor Fabry, and that she shouldn't mind her Dad dating."

Alf flushed brightly. "Well, I _don't_ mind that my Dad's getting married…Miss Shell really is terrific and I _do_ like her, and why shouldn't Liv's Dad start dating too!"

Eileen just stared at him as if he were proving her point; flustered, he continued on. "You're way wrong on this, Eileen…way, way wrong. Dad's so much happier with her than he was without her…how could that _bother _me!"

"You're human." She said, quite calmly. "And people aren't always rational, Alf. I know that you really believe everything you're saying…but what do you _feel_?" He didn't answer her; he really couldn't trust himself with speech at the moment. And she went right to the heart of what always bothered him, of the fear that he kept trying to push down inside of himself. "Professor Fabry's still pretty young…I bet they'll have kids."

"I HATE you!" Alf hissed out, absolutely pissed off mainly because she could read him so damned well. He slammed his bag on the table and stuffed the parchment inside, and huffed out, without turning behind to look at his friend.

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY:

One week until school is out; one week until I've got the prospect of an entire summer with people who don't want to use me for nefarious purposes. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remind me that it's real. Then when I do, of course, the rest of the story comes back to me: I have a four year window to try to figure out how to keep a vow from killing me. Oh, yeah, right…my life _isn't_ perfect.

It does seem to be better at the moment than Alf's. He's been downright cranky and miserable for the past two days…Teddy thinks it's his Ravenclaw brain in overdrive, but I think it's more than that. And he's pissed at Eileen, as if he's getting back at her for earlier in the year when she was freezing him out. Only it's not like I've told Alf that somewhere in my warped little brain I see them as life partners, so why he'd be all frosty I can't imagine.

Doesn't seem to be bothering Leenie too much. She just gives him this vaguely smug look that would actually piss me off if she threw it at me.

Meanwhile, exams are coming up. Muggle studies is _killing_ me. I mean, my father barely allowed me to interact with the wizarding world, let alone with the world beyond. Alf, when he isn't cranky, has been really trying to help me…if he scores less than a 120 percent on the exam I'll die from shock.

…now THAT would throw a kink in Dad's plans!

Oh, and for reasons I cannot explain, the house elves seem to be plying us with unreal amounts of food. A little more than a week ago my elves (though I don't technically own them) showed up in my house with food coming out of their ears (though not literally, thankfully). Never before has Slytherin liked me better. I bet Uncle George just got sick of having them underfoot!

Anyway, I see Alf talking to Eileen. I'm steering clear for now. If Alf has any of George in him, fireworks are not out of the question!

WWWWWWW

"Got a minute?" Alf said, shortly. Eileen looked up at him, and as if she understood, the smug, rather supercilious look faded away into acceptance. She slid over and let him sit beside her. He paused for a moment, afraid he was losing his nerve, but he gave himself a little shake.

"You're right, you know. I've always wondered what would happen when my Dad got married, and when he had more kids. He knows it, too…we've talked about it. Most of the time I forget that it bothers me, but it never goes away. And I'm not sure that it will until they do have kids, and I see that it doesn't make any difference." Alf looked at her very seriously. "But I _hate_ that you knew that."

"I know." And then, realizing that sounded a little smug in and of itself, she covered her mouth. Despite himself, Alf found himself laughing at the look on her face..

"Look, Ei…I don't know why you can get inside my head like that. Sometimes it's a little freaky. But I am glad you said something, even if I haven't been acting it." He pulled out the letter that he still hadn't sent to Liv. "I added a post-script."

…_Liv, I've been thinking about what I wrote above, and I wanted to let you know: it's normal to be worried that your dad is dating again. And it's normal to be wondering what will happen to you if he finds somebody. Even though I really am happy for my Dad, I went through all of that too, and sometimes, as much as I know he loves me, and as much as I think his fiancée loves me too, I still get worried. So don't think you're some bad person for feeling like that, because you're not. Like I'm not._

_As a friend of mine once said, we're just human."_

Eileen blinked a little, and cleared her throat. Alf rolled his eyes dramatically. "Good heavens, Ei, you're not going to cry NOW, when I'm being nice to you, after I've been a complete jerk for two days."

"Oh, shut up." She said, nudging him over hard. But it made her smile, and then laugh, which let Alf laugh as well. And all was right in his world once again!


	23. Ch 23 Towards a Wedding II

"Miss Shell?" Alf peaked his head around the door, having gained access to her quarters via the pass word she'd given him.

"Alf?" She called out from the bedroom. "Didn't know you were coming by...I'll be out in a second."

Alf smiled a little, shutting the door behind him. He knew he was welcome to make himself at home here, something that had been no small comfort during the rough patches of his first year. As if she sensed his thoughts, his soon-to-be step-mother added, "There's o. j. in the kitchenette."

_Score!_ He thought happily, going forward and pouring himself a glass. "Thanks...it may be the same color as pumpkin juice, but all resemblance ends there!"

"I'm with you!" She laughed. "I'm American enough to think that pumpkin belongs in pies."

Alf had just sat down when she came out into the living room, and he proceeded to dribble the juice all over his chin in awe. Miss Shell was in her wedding dress, apparently just trying it on. _Bloody hell...I never realized how beautiful she was. Cool, fun, smart and funny...but she's beautiful too! _He wiped the juice from his face, and could only get out very simply, "Oh, WOW!"

She beamed, absolutely glowing. "Thanks, Alf...it just came over from America." She turned slightly in it. It was strapless, with a lace upper top that glimmered with crystals; from the waist it was a slightly flowing, floating material that seemed to have a life of it's own. It made her look like a goddess, with her hair up in the front and then falling down her back in waves. "I wanted to do a dry run to make sure it fit, and it actually does...my friend Karen knew the dress-maker. Wizard, of course. Think it's a bit much for a Hogwarts wedding?"

Alf managed a shake of his head. "Not at all. I mean...WOW!"

She laughed at his expression and came over and rubbed his head. "I'm glad you're seeing it now; I had been counting on you to prod your father for the right responses when the moment came." She looked in a mirror, studying her hair. "Was considering wearing it all the way up...what do you think?"

Alf shook his head. "Dad likes your hair down...he told me once." Alf hugged a pillow close to him, absolutely mesmerized by her. "Are you going to borrow Great Aunt Muriel's tiara? I heard Aunt Fleur talking about it."

"Absolutely not!" Michelle reached down and pulled off her shoes, sighing in relief. "Your Dad can't stand her...something about her telling your Gran that either he or Fred were doomed to die, and it setting off about thirty years of misunderstanding."

"Oh, right, I know about that." Alf remembered a conversation between Dad and his grandmother when he was recovering from that broken arm/muggle reaction to skele-grow incident. "I don't think he _knows_ I know, though...but when I first came to live with him he and Gran were at each other's throats over that misunderstanding."

"Well, you'd never know it now." Michelle sighed, boxing the shoes. "I'll be right back out. Hold tight." She picked up her skirts and shuffled back into the bedroom.

He sipped his juice, and then called back out to her. "So...since Eileen is going to want a full description once I tell her I've seen the dress...are you going to do anything else with your hair, since no tiara? You don't seem a veil person to me!" Alf mused.

"Over my dead body!" Michelle scoffed at the thought. . "Veils are a remnant of the days when women were handed out like chattel from their fathers to their husbands. No, Professor Sprout, as a wedding gift, is weaving me a flower band that that is going to go from ear to ear of miniature red roses...thornless, of course."

"I should hope so!" Alf sat back, looking around him. Miss Shell had already started packing up her belongings; boxes of books and photographs were everywhere. A new thought occurred to him: "You are going to teach next year, aren't you?"

"Yes, although I will not be living on site...I'll be going home every evening, more like how it was in Salem. I think Minerva's a little disappointed, she'd been planning on tapping me for head of house duties for Hufflepuff." She emerged from the bedroom dressed more normally, in jeans and a blouse with her robes draped lightly around her. Only her hair remained in the formal half-up state. "So...you visiting for a specific reason, kiddo?"

"I had some free time before my last exam." He said, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. "Ei's in divination now, and CJ stayed with Hagrid...apparently he's got a hippogriff he wanted to see."

"CJ is very good with animals." Michelle mused. "He should think of doing something with that when he grows up."

"I think he is...though he's suddenly started spending a lot of time studying ancient rituals, too...don't know what's up with that." Alf sighed, and looked around. "I'm going to miss when you're not living here all the time, I think. It's been nice...knowing I had somebody I could count on. An adult."

Michelle leaned forward, elbows on her knees, watching Alf. "I am glad you feel that way. I know I can't replace your mother, Alf; I wouldn't try. But I want you to know that you can always count on me to be there for you." She gave him a determined smile. "Besides, I'm still contractually obligated for coverage two weekends a month, so you won't be rid of me entirely outside of class hours." They lapsed into silence for a few more moments before she continued. "Are you okay with this, Alf? You are so mature sometimes that I think people forget you've been through a hell of a lot in the past two years."

He blinked in surprise, and then felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude; without thinking, he got up and hugged her, accepting the hug back willingly, and not able to speak at all. He felt her rubbing his back in slow circles, knowing he was trying hard to keep himself composed. Finally, he took a deep breath. "I get scared sometimes." He admitted. "So many good things have happened to me and...and..."

"And you're afraid of it stopping." She rested her chin on his head, still holding on to him. "Me too, Alf."

"What?" He asked, surprised.

"You and your dad came in to my life out of nowhere and turned it upside down. In a good way." She chuckled. "I didn't realize I was unhappy, but I think I was...I shut most people out of my life and didn't honestly think I'd ever fall in love again, didn't ever think I'd have a family. Now, it hasn't always been easy...last summer was a right mess...but it's been wonderful. And yes, I get scared that it will stop too, because I honestly am not used to things going right for so long." She chuckled a little. "Hell, I bet your dad feels the same way; given what he went through he's probably waiting for the other shoe to drop as well."

"When you put it that way," Alf mused. "We all sound pretty stupid, don't we?"

"I think that if we let our fear get in the way of loving each other, then we are stupid. But we haven't yet, and we aren't going to." She looked down at his face, putting her hand under his chin. "Are we?"

"No." He said at once, suddenly feeling more sure of himself. "No, we're not."

"Good." They rose together, Michelle straightening out her robes so she looked more like a professor. "I have to take down this hair before I go conduct my sixth-year healing exam. And you need to be somewhere shortly, I have no doubt."

"History of Magic." Alf wrinkled his nose. "The exam will probably be more interesting than the class has been."

She laughed, roughing his hair. "Go on, then...I'd say to knock 'em dead, but with Professor Binns there is no need."

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

I have been at the Weasley's for two days now, and I think my head might explode from the chaos. I mean, I knew that Alf's Grandparents house was a bit zany, at Christmas, but the house in Godric's Hollow was never this bad. A wedding will do this, I guess.

In honor of some sort of decorum that I think might be a tad silly, Professor Fabry has not yet moved in. Her _stuff_ is moved in, but not her. She, it would seem, has moved in with the Potters for the next week, although she and Aunt Ginny, along with Alf's Gran, seem to all be at Hogwarts and in Hogsmeade most of the time, prepping for the Wedding.

Uncle George has mostly been making travel arrangements, especially in regards to someone named Lee Jordan and his guest. I even think I heard him say that Viktor Krum would be coming, which would be really wicked...he was one hell of a Quidditch player! Heck, even I'd heard of Krum.

Alf is all beside himself with nervous excitement. Something seemed to happen to him the last day of exams where he wasn't quite so moody and not worrying so much about the wedding...he finally told me what had been going on in his twisted mind. I almost scoffed at him, but then I thought that wasn't really right of me. Just because Alf's had this great family in all the time I've known him, 'all the time I've known him' is only eight months. And I am full aware that he wasn't in the most stable of places before that.

When I think about it, he has nearly enough right to be stark raving barmy as I do; the fact that neither of us are is pretty remarkable.

Anyway, right now he's alternating between being scared to death that he's going to lose the ring, or trip over his dress robes, or some other humiliating situation as best man, and being giddy at the prospect of hosting some muggle friends from Salem. I admit I'm a little nervous at meeting the Castelli's; I've never much been around muggles before, and only recently even been around muggle-borns. And I don't always make the best impression when I first meet people as it is.

When I said as much as Alf, I half expected him to disagree with me. "Oh, no, CJ...you really don't come off that bad." Instead he agreed: "Yeah, Teddy and I thought you were a complete arse that first day on the train!"

So of course I felt compelled to tackle him to the ground. And he, of course, fought back. All in good fun, of course...we were laughing the whole time. It was entirely something we'd have done at school and that Teddy would have joined in on, and that would have sent Eileen walking away shaking her head.

But when I suddenly heard Uncle George say 'what on earth are you two _doing_?' I was quite sure it was my last day on this earth. And...this is embarrassing...I ran for it.

Stupid, really...really, really stupid. Where do I run? Into the house and into the room that seems to be mine, and what do I do? I dive under the bed.

I can't even believe I'm writing this down.

At my father's house, when I knew punishment was coming, I never ran. I knew running would make it worse, I learned that early. So what exactly I was thinking when I took off isn't clear even in my own mind. Except that I knew that if Alf's dad hit me, it would be worse than anything my father ever did, even if it was just a slap. Because it would destroy something then, something I've barely begun to believe in.

I heard him come in to the room and I froze, wishing I could skim past the next hour without living it. But he did the most remarkable thing...rather than pulling me out from under the bed by my ankles (with or without magic), he crawled under the bed with me. No easy feat for him, either, but he did it. And then he said, "See, let me explain what was supposed to happen out there…"

Turns out that finding us essentially mud-wrestling was supposed to leave us standing there while he turned the garden hose on us, which was supposed to be our cue to attack him back and involve him in the fun.

I am an idiot.

It took him half an hour to talk me out from under the bed; the first ten minutes I was still convinced he was going to hurt me, and the next twenty minutes feeling like a fool. And then when I did come out I wasn't unconvinced he wasn't going to change his mind, because I'd tracked mud through the kitchen, up the stairs and in to the bedroom. But he just squeezed my shoulder and showed me a few cleaning spells to remove the muck, quite calmly. And Alf, bless him, didn't say a _word_ when I got downstairs, he'd set up the chess board and challenged me to a match, and it was like nothing had ever happened.

I suppose eventually I'll learn to understand this family I seem to now be a part of. I hope, anyway. I'm just happy that they seem to take me in stride for what I am. And hope, desperately, they never learn what I keep buried so deep.

I want to believe.

WWWWWWW

George sat beside the fire, with Alf, watching some food network reruns he'd conjured up on his rigged television set. It was purely background, though; both he and Alf had been waiting to discuss what happened with CJ until, well, until CJ wasn't around. And once the boy had gone up to bed, he and Alf still remained silent for a bit, neither of them quite able to find the words they wanted.

Finally, George started. "I blew that."

"You didn't." Alf was pretty immediate. "I mean, he doesn't _know _you Dad. He thought you were angry, but that's not your fault."

George frowned. "Did I _sound_ angry?" He worried.

"Not to me…look, usually when you get really angry, you don't really yell. But like I said, CJ doesn't know that." Alf rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Actually, it might be a good thing. Every time he thinks you're going to go after him, and you don't, it's going to hammer home that you're not like his dad."

"Maybe." George sighed. "You were a lot easier to get through to."

"I wasn't as damaged." Alf reminded him. "And, well, we had a blood bond. That does count, when it comes to understanding each other."

George knew Alf was right. Although he was confused, too. "What do you mean, I don't yell? I chewed you out pretty good over that misunderstanding about Knockturn Alley?"

Alf grinned at him. "Actually, you didn't yell much. You mostly hissed…like you were thinking about chewing me out and it was taking all your resolve not to. The only time I was ever afraid of you was after the fireworks, and you didn't yell AT ALL then. You were absolutely controlled and I was dead on sure you were going to kill me."

Ah. The fireworks. It had become a running joke, but he could look back now and see the truth of what Alf said. Because George knew that in that moment if he'd actually given in to his anger, he might have done worse than yell. He was exceptionally glad that he hadn't.

His son got up, reached over, and hugged him tight. "Don't beat yourself up over it. CJ will be fine. He doesn't know how to have fun with an adult, that's all."

"Or he hasn't yet realized that I'm not really an adult at all." George joked, squeezing Alf in return, before messing his hair up. "Love you."

"Love you too. G'night. Dad."

George kept watching the cooking shows, but wasn't really seeing them. He was thinking about all the moments with Alf, their rough spots and how they'd come through them. And he wondered if he'd be able to get to that point with CJ, or if what Alf said about the kid being more damaged than Alf ever had been. He waved his wand and the television snapped off, and George found himself sitting alone in the semi-darkness, the only light coming from the crackling fire.

In that stillness, he felt something. A presence, maybe. Not Fred…ever since he'd found Alf, he could tell when Fred's spirit was nearby. This wasn't Fred. But a presence nevertheless.

The fire glowed more brightly for a moment, giving him warmth…it might be June, but there was still a hint of English chill in the night that made it welcome. There was a movement in the air; it ruffled his hair and rustled through the room. The books in the book case shuddered a bit, and then a picture fell over.

And just like that, the presence was gone.

The picture that fell over was one he didn't often look at, one with him and Fred when they were young boys, in youth Quidditch. But he'd quite forgotten that the captain of that youth team, a year older than they were, was Cedric Diggory.

He gently placed the photo on back with a smile, and headed up the stairs.

CJ was asleep already, that diary that Alf had given him tucked firmly in his arm. He imagined it must be quite an interesting entry for today. He pulled the blankets up to the boy, and stroked his head gently; CJ, this time, turned into the touch in his sleep, instead of pulling away. "Night, Cedric." He murmured.

George was startled, but then maybe not. He had felt Cedric downstairs. Maybe CJ could too, though he'd thought from Fred that a spirit needed an in-life connection to be felt. Maybe Cedric had found a way to reach CJ through the elves. Well, whatever comfort CJ had found was well deserved, and he felt it flowing through him now.

He would win this one. He wasn't accepting giving up as an option.

WWWWWWW

It was just five days until her wedding. The last thing Michelle Fabry had time for was a road trip. But here she was. Sheffield. On a gloriously sunny day, a day that was all spring and held the hope of life in all its glory for the world to see.

Except she was standing in a graveyard.

She wandered through the headstones, some older, some newer; some neglected, others covered with flowers and other muggle (for it _was_ a muggle graveyard) adornments. She moved with purpose towards where the keeper had told her she could find her goal, the end of a row, near a chestnut tree. It was a newer headstone, and had recently been adorned with flowers.

**_KATIE BELL WOODRUFF_**

Michelle sighed, and placed her own contributions on the ground: a bunch of white lilacs, rather out of season but with magic all things were possible; besides, she'd heard these were Kaite's favorite flower. Getting down on one knee, she stared at the name of Alf's mother. She believed, of course, that Katie's spirit was elsewehere and these were just her physical remains, but somehow she had felt like this was something she wanted to do.

"You don't know me, Katie." She began, dusting some stray dirt away from the trim granite. "But I thought you ought to, considering. You see, I am marrying George Weasley in a few days, and, well, I am going to be step mother, of sorts, to your son Alfred."

Michelle paused. It was hard for her to know exactly why she was here. A year ago this made more sense, when she had though George had lost a wife, or at least a lover, in addition to gaining a son. Now she understood the truth: Katie had been Fred's lover, not George's. The late Katie Bell would not, as far as she understood her, have been unhappy for George to find a life partner at all.

"Thing is, I know Alf's been worrying a bit, and I know you must feel that, wherever you are. And I want you to know, he doesn't have to worry. I can't take your place, but I do promise to love him like my own, even if some day I have more of my own to love. Does that make sense? He is a terrific kid, Katie, and you must have been really proud of him; I'm sure you still are. Sometimes the rest of the family sort of questions what you did, but I can imagine you must have been scared; you were so young, and they were dangerous times. And then thinking Alf was a squib; all you wanted to do was protect him. Anyway, I know you must have been a wonderful mother; you have to have been, to have such a great kid. So I guess I'm here to promise you, that no matter what, I will do what's right for Alf. And if, God forbid, something were to happen to George, I would fight tooth and nail for Alf, to keep him safe and keep him happy. You can bank on that."

There was silence for a few moments; a gentle breeze swaying the leaves above her and birds singing. Michelle sighed, not really sure that anything she'd just said would do any good; what she wouldn't give for some kind of sign from Katie that this was all okay, that her becoming Alf's de-facto mother was okay. But it didn't seem that things happened that way.

"Did you know my mother?" A voice broke the silence.

Michelle turned to see a young girl, nine or ten years old maybe, standing a few feet away, with a bunch of daisies in her hand. She was short, and athletic; a brown ponytail hung down her back. Her skin was olive toned and her eyes were hazel, behind rather round glasses.

She smiled at the girl, as she put two and two together. "You must be Liv." She realized out loud.

The young lady frowned slightly. "My name is Olivia. Only my family calls me Liv. And I don't know you."

"Ah, but I know YOU. You see, I am engaged to marry Alf's father. My name is Michelle Fabry." Michelle scooted over, giving the girl room to put her own flowers down. She did so carefully, glancing sideways at Michelle as she did so.

"Oh, his professor. Yes, he's written about you." Liv sat down on the ground, arranging things. "So your _special_, like my mum was?"

"If you mean I am a witch, yes, I am." Michelle had glanced around to make sure they were alone. "But I'm sure your mom must have been special in a lot of ways."

Liv looked her over very seriously. "HOW do you know that? You didn't know her."

Brains must run in the family, Michelle realized. "Because Alf is pretty special, and I hear how he talks about her."

The young girl sighed deeply. "Of course Alf talks about her. Sometimes I think he and I are the only ones that do. That's why I miss him so much." Carefull hands continued arranging flowers, pausing over the lilacs. "These are pretty, mum would have loved them. I didn't think they were in season anymore."

"Um, they're not."

"Ah. So they're special too. That was very nice of you, to find out what she would have liked." Liv nodded in acknowledgement. "So…why are you here?"

"I guess…I wanted to find a way to maybe tell your Mum not to worry about Alf. That I will love him and take care of him. I can't be her, but I can be there for him, and that's what I'm going to do."

Liv gave her a tight smile. "I wish my Dad would have been as smart as you, then maybe he wouldn't have sent Alf away." Liv shook her head. "That's not right though…I can tell just through the letters that Alf belongs with Mum's people. Still, Dad could have been better to him."

"I understand they didn't much get along?" Michelle asked, really not totally sure of how Alf's life had been before George.

"My Dad only had enough love for me and Len…that's my little brother; he's a pain in the butt. If you ask my Dad, he'll tell you he treated Alf fairly, that he wasn't mean to him but once, and that was an accident." Liv shook her head. "But I think it's mean to hold back love for no good reason. Alf was always the best; always top grades, always helped out, never mouthed off. Took care of Mum lots when she was sick, too. And always really patient with me. Dad should have loved him a little, I think."

"What makes you so sure he didn't love him at least a little?" Michelle asked, really curious.

Liv raised her eyebrows. "Would you send a ten year old on a train all by himself with nothing but a little money and a sandwich to go live with people you've never even met? Because that's what Dad did. So maybe it all ended up okay for Alf…he found his Dad, and found a world he belonged in. But quite a lot could have gone wrong. Alf could have gotten lost; he could have been robbed or hurt or something, or maybe he wouldn't have been wanted. My Dad had no way of knowing it was going to be okay." Liv shook her head hard. "I still get mad at him for how he did that, and it's been two years. It just wasn't right."

"I agree with you." Michelle felt faintly sick at hearing how Alf had been so nearly discarded. No wonder the kid worried about her turning on him. "And speaking of ten year olds being by themselves, shouldn't you be with a grown up?"

"Ah, my grandmother's at the car. She brought me here, wouldn't come to the grave though." Liv shrugged. "Dad's mum, you see. She _really _hated Alf."

"Will your Dad let us bring Alf for a visit, Liv?" Michelle asked, knowing Alf had approached George on it.

"I think so. I think it's part of him convincing himself he did his best for Alf." Liv looked quite grave. "My Dad doesn't talk about my mum so much anymore, and now he's started dating. I hope he finds someone like you." She shrugged. "But I don't think he's going to be that lucky twice." A twinkle came into her eye then, and a slightly wicked grin. "Of course, anyone he dates has to get past Len, and Len is a real butt head."

Michelle joined in her laughter, and noticed something. "You have your mum's smile; I've seen it in photos."

Liv's smile became more pronounced. "Thanks. I wish I looked more like her instead of Dad, but she had the best smile. Even when she was sick." Liv got up, dusting herself off and Michelle followed her example. "Will you promise me that you won't ever forget to care about Alf? He's really fond of you."

"And I am genuinely fond of him. I have no intention of forgetting him." Michelle put a hand on the child's shoulder.

"Oi, Liv!" A rough voice called out, as a stocky boy with a round face appeared about twenty feet a way. "Get a move on, I want my icecream. Come ON! Stop wasting time!"

Liv glared at her younger brother. "Some times I just want to…OOOH!" She grumbled, stamping her foot down.

In the distance Michelle could swear she heard thunder, thought the day was clear.

"Stand firm, young lady…remember, YOU are the big sister." Michelle encouraged.

"Yeah, Alf says that all the time." Liv shrugged. "But anyway…nice meeting you…I'm sure Mum would have approved."

_Wish I could be so sure of that_. Michelle thought, as she watched Liv walk away. With a sigh, she turned and went in an opposite direction. Just once she turned back, and saw a beautiful swan, pure silver and opalescent, by Katie's grave. It fluttered out its wings, and dipped his head, before taking flight.

Michelle's heart became lighter. And she decided she didn't even need to ask what Katie's patronus had been.


	24. Ch 24 Towards a Wedding III

"How do I look?" Alf asked nervously.

"Like a complete git." Teddy said immediately.

"Total wanker." CJ added.

They both smirked and started laughing, as Alf shot them a look of death. "Not helping, guys." He grumbled. "Where is Eileen when I need her." He added, looking helplessly in the mirror.

CJ covered up his chuckle with a cough; Teddy just gave him a confused glance and a shrug.

They were in Alf's bedroom. The Castelli's were due to fly in later on that day, and Alf's dress robes, as befitting a best man, had arrived. He had struggled in to them as best he could; they were classic looking black and white. But the bow tie was eluding him. Alf was pretty respectable with a regular tie, but this thing was giving him fits.

"Maybe you should tie it around your head, like a sweatband." Teddy deadpanned. "Bet it would make your dad laugh."

"Right. I don't think the wedding is going to be a toilet seat sort of occasion." Alf attempted the bow once more and then groaned in exasperation when it once again ended up lopsided. He tugged frustratingly at his hair.

"Now, now." CJ admonished him. "A bald best man would never do...how are they supposed to know you're a Weasley without red hair?"

Alf rubbed his forehead. "I hate you both."

"Right." They said together, smiling.

As Alf began carefully to try once more, Teddy decided to try to distract him. "Did I hear that Miss Shell visited your sister?"

"She ran in to her in Sheffield." Alf was concentrating very carefully. "Why, I'm not sure...she got kind of funny about that...but it was cool that she made a point of chatting with her. I miss Liv...she had a lot of Mum in her."

"Is she a witch?" CJ asked, causing Alf to slip on his knot once again, and turn gaping.

"Huh? My sister Liv? God no, she's as muggle as muggle gets." Alf was stunned by the question; it had never even occurred to him.

"Well, she had a fifty-fifty shot, didn't she?" CJ said, quite rationally. "Your brother too, but as you've described him I couldn't picture him being slightly magical."

"Argh!" In disgust Alf tossed the bow tie down and sat on the bed opposite his friends. "Len has got the imagination of a chunk of granite. And the brains." He snorted in derision. "If he's a wizard I'll hand in my wand." But he was still thinking about Liv. "I never thought about my sister though...that she could have more of Mum than of my step father. Harlan's half and half, isn't he?"

"There are a few, although not so many in our year." Teddy started, then seeing the confused looks from CJ and Alf, he went on. "Well, we were all pretty much conceived at the height of Voldemort's return. Mixed relationships could get you killed. Heck, having a relationship with a muggleborn could get you killed."

"Right. Hard to think sometimes how different that world was, just twelve years ago." Alf nodded. "I wonder if Liv could be a witch...that would be pretty wicked...but still...I'd know, somehow, wouldn't I?"

"Think about Lily." Teddy encouraged. "She's pretty capable of throwing about her share of accidental magic...remember last week when James took away her doll?"

Alf snorted. Lily's face had screwed up like a gargoyle, gone bright red, and then bam, her oldest brother was hit was the family legacy: a perfect bat bogey curse. Only with tiny, tiny bats. Aunt Ginny had been so shocked she just started laughing, trying to look stern at both her wayward children and failing utterly. "Bet James doesn't try that again." He relapsed once more into thought, then shook his head. "Can't say that I recall Liv doing anything remotely like that, though."

"But she wouldn't, would she?" CJ mused. "I mean, for a magical infant, attempting to mimic what you see happening around you is natural. WOULD a witch or wizard being raised as a muggle do the same things?"

Alf turned to Teddy. "Uncle Harry did, didn't he?"

"Yes...sort of." Teddy thought it out. "According to his stories, no where near as much as wizard born kids, but whenever he was really stressed or scared it kind of came out."

"I bet that sure as shite didn't make him any less stressed or scared." Alf mused, then shuddered. "Especially since I've met his uncle. Urgh."

There was a knock. "How's those dress robes coming, Kiddo..." Alf saw his dad's face peek round the door. "Ah...bow tie issues I see..." Alf rose to meet him, holding out the offending object and George got behind him in the mirror. "Only way I can do this...let's give it a go..."

"I don't know how I'm going to be able to do this myself." He mumbled. "And you're going to be too busy the day of the wedding."

"I promise you I will not be too busy for this." George finished with a flourish. "There...perfect." He squeezed Alf's shoulders encouragingly. "And I must say I have good taste in picking them out. You should see what your Uncle Ron had to wear to the Yule Ball..."

Teddy snorted, and Alf and George both looked at him. "Uncle Harry has a picture...really heinous robes, alright...maroon velvet and lace."

"Eeeeewwwwwwww..." Alf and CJ chimed in together.

"And they were with these two girls...twins I think...who looked bored out of their mind." Teddy added sagely.

"The Patil twins." George smiled to himself. "Frankly, Harry and Ron were getting quite desperate for a date, neither of them having had the sense to see who they should have asked to begin with, namely Hermione and Ginny." He helped Alf in getting out of the dress robes, and placed them carefully on the hanger, handing them to Alf to put away.

"I dunno, the girls looked kind of pretty, I thought." Teddy added, picking up Alf's soccer ball and bouncing it once on the floor.

"Oh, they were nice enough...and quite pretty actually." George leaned back against the wall, lost in the memory, and a strange twinkle came to his eyes. "But Ron spent the whole night drooling after Hermione, who was with Viktor Krum, and Harry only had eyes for..."

"Aunt Ginny." Alf, Teddy and CJ chimed in together.

"...a lovely young woman named Cho Chang." George laughed at their shock. "She was capable of turning Harry into a complete burbling idiot. If Voldemort had only known! Oh, Harry had asked Ginny, in desperation when he was dateless, but she'd already accepted a guy named Neville Longbottom." George roused himself and moved towards the door. "I am going to the airport to pick up the Castelli's, Alf. I assume the house will still be standing when I get back?"

"What, no fireworks?" Alf quipped.

"Do you want to live to see thirteen?" George roughed his hair in playful understanding. "Be back in a bit."

The boys watched him go, before Teddy turned to Alf. "Boy, I bet Uncle George has _loads_ of stories like that one! I never even heard of Cho Chang!"

CJ was thinking it over. "So...George took Katie Bell to the Yule Ball, while Fred took Angelina Johnson..."

"Yeah, but they swapped before the night was over." Alf added.

"...Ron took a Patil Twin, as did Harry...while Hermione went with Viktor Krum and Aunt Ginny went with some other dude...heh. I guess you're not necessarily going to spend the rest of your life with the first person you date." CJ looked quite thoughtful.

"Like any of us are dating anybody." Alf scoffed. "If we had to snag dates before some ball, we'd all be scrambling on top of each other to get to Eileen first, since she's the only girl we can stand."

Teddy blushed just faintly. "Er...Kayla Prentiss is, um, kind of pretty." Alf and CJ both turned to him in surprise, and he stuttered a bit. "The seeker for Hufflepuff...nice smile and, um...nice hair...and...well..."

Alf rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about possibilities, Teddy. Kayla Prentiss is a fifth year...if one of us asked her to a ball she'd be laughing so much they'd think we hit her with a cheering charm."

"But I'll be sure to mention to Eileen..." CJ drawled. "To tell her housemate that you think that she is 'kind of pretty'."

"You _wouldn't_!" Teddy gaped, horrified.

"Right after I let Eileen know that she's our first choice among females as a last resort because she's one of the guys." CJ continued deadpan.

"That's NOT what I said..." Alf objected.

Then CJ laughed, and they saw he was kidding. With a groan, Alf picked up the soccer ball. "C'mon, let's head outside before we accidentally do something stupid!"

WWWWWWW

Michelle Fabry was still adjusting to the sheer volume and vibrancy of the family she was about to marry in to. Her own parents had died when she was young, and she'd been raised by a great aunt Cecile, who passed away while she was still obtaining her degree in advanced healing. And then, when she'd met her late fiancé Tony, he had been a muggle, and she walked away from most of the ties she did have in the wizarding community. With one exception.

Karen Brookes she had known since her first days in America, right after moving in with Aunt CeCe. Karen had stood by her thick and thin, yet had always been brutally honest with her. Karen had never much cared for Tony, although she'd agreed to play muggle when she was around him. Strangely, Karen had been just fine with Michelle's other muggle friends (Jimmy Castelli included). Still, no matter what, Michelle knew that Karen would give her honest opinion, and still not hold it against Michelle if Michelle disregarded it.

George had been an interesting situation. When, back in Salem, Michelle had volunteered her glorious good luck, Karen had given her the top ten reasons why getting involved with a muggle again was not a good idea. Michelle had listened and opted to ignore her, but at the same time decided not to introduce them to each other… half afraid of having to choose between them, and more afraid of Karen being right again.

When, just a week after she'd moved to England, she'd given Karen the news about what George really was, she'd gotten an owl in return…a howler of sorts, but one that on opening laughed for about ten minutes, before saying, "I _told_ you that you were bound to end up with a wizard one of these days. Idiot."

Karen was, of course, her maid of honor.

She'd just arrived, and Ginny and Harry had graciously made room for her in the house as well. And it turned out to have been a good thing, because Ginny and Karen had hit it off from the start. Today, just two days before the wedding, Karen had tried on her dress (simple red silk, and actually something that could be worn again, contrary to the history of bridesmaid dresses), and now was checking out Michelle's own dress, making sure the skirts flowed properly and that everything fit as perfectly as Michelle felt it did when she'd tried it on back at Hogwarts. Ginny had mixed a pitcher of cocktails for the occasion and they were upstairs, enjoying a few hours away from men and children.

Not that the children were far from mind. There was a cacophony of young boys at play acting as background music to this final test run of Michelle's dress. Alf, Teddy and CJ were in the back yard with Tony Castelli, who'd arrived yesterday with his Dad. Michelle had worried that Tony might be totally overwhelmed in the magical environment, or that CJ and teddy wouldn't accept him, putting Alf into an awkward in-between situation.

In fact, Tony had tried to act very nonchalant and cool, as only a thirteen year old in an unfamiliar environment could. That ended when Alf had kicked a soccer ball right at Tony's head, which he had to either save or be decapitated by. He opted to save it, broke into a wide grin, and immediately a scrum had broken out between the two boys, as if they had never left Salem.

Introductions followed, and though there were a few awkward moments once CJ and Teddy arrived (their interaction with muggles having been non-existent), the combination of Alf's naturally outgoing nature and of a love of sports brought them together. Now, one day later, the four of them, with Ginny's two boys joining in, were again playing soccer, rough-housing with the younger boys and laughing and hollering as if they had been friends for years.

The girls were in Ginny's spare room. Karen was still fussing with Michelle's dress, assuring herself that it had not been damaged in transit. Ginny was applying makeup on Michelle with an artist's touch, as they were opting for a complete dry run.

"I can't believe that those boys have taken to each other so easily." Ginny murmured, applying foundation to Michelle's face.

"It makes it easier that they aren't supposed to use magic over the break." Michelle said, only to be shushed by Ginny.

"Stop talking…I have to do your lips now." Her soon-to-be sister in law s scolded her. "We want to have you looking perfect Saturday."

Karen snorted behind her. "She never would take makeup tips. Said she never had time for it and any man who was interested in her was going to have to take her pale face and all."

Michelle shot her a dark glare, only to have Ginny force her face forward, even while she smirked. "What have men got to do with it? It's the photos I'm worried about. My _brother_ is so damned smitten she could walk out in a burlap robe with cold cream on her face and he wouldn't notice."

"Why don't we just go to stark naked?" Karen joked.

"Because that…he'd notice!" Ginny deadpanned.

"Stop it…both of you…" Michelle grumbled. And without warning, Ginny hit her with a hex that both silenced her and held her head steady.

"I warned you…you keep _talking_!" Ginny winked at Karen and ignored the glare that was being sent her way by Michelle, who was even at that moment plotting glorious forms of revenge.

Ginny wasn't done with her own torture, however. "So, Karen…do tell me about how Michelle and George hooked up. Everything I've heard has been courtesy of my brothers or my father, and you know how _men_ are!"

Karen chuckled. "And you think the human oyster here told me anything? She would never even introduce me to your brother. Of course, that could be because the last time she tried to throw her life away on a muggle I told her she was making a mistake on the level of Napoleon invading Russia."

"I'm shocked you could think so lowly of my poor sainted brother." Ginny said in mock indignation, as she swept shadow over Michelle's brows. Wrinkling her nose, she waved her wand and whisked the shadow clean. "Not brown…eggplant, maybe?"

"Well, if I had been allowed to meet your brother, I might have thought otherwise. He's not much like Tony the phony, as I liked the call the last one." She chuckled. "Served her right when George ended up a wizard after all." Karen teased.

_I am going to lock both of them in a dark room full of flobberworms. _Michelle fumed.

"Of course, how she didn't realize he was a wizard I'll never know. You would think that somebody who had been first in her class in healing would recognize a _freaking curse scar!" _Karen got up from the dress and refilled her glass, and then did the same for Ginny. Michelle's glass went untouched.

"So true…but perhaps she never got close enough to check the scar out." Ginny raised an eyebrow expressively at Michelle. "I am certain she isn't one to take advantage of my poor innocent brother in such a stressful time as he was going through." Michelle felt herself blush. "And one has to get really, really close to George in order to see that scar, he covers it up so thoroughly with his hair. You would have to know him on an…intimate…basis."

_I hate you both._ She glared.

Karen sitting back and enjoying the sight, her eyes sparkling. "Ginny, I must beg to differ. I've heard accounts of your brother and innocent is not the word that would spring to mind."

"Scandalous!" Ginny gasped, stepping back and nodding as she was pleased with the effect of the shadow. "My poor George has never been anything but a paragon of virtue and propriety. Except, perhaps, for the incident with Professor Umbridge…and of course setting the ton-tongue toffee on Dudley Dursley…and for eavesdropping on every Order of the Phoenix meeting my parents were involved in…and for the dung bomb under the minister's car…" Ginny let out a low whistle. "I think we can dispense with blush for the run-through. Her face is quite red enough without it!"

Something inside Michelle broke, accidental magic poured forth, and she burst through the hex with something like thunder. "THAT'S IT! You are both dead women!:

Ginny and Karen dove for the other side of the bed. "The dress, Michelle…mind the dress…" Karen advised.

Michelle lunged for her wand; Ginny lunged for hers, and Karen cast a spell to protect the dress, half laughing, half terrified.

WWWWWWW

The sound of the boom was heard outside by the barbeque, where George was hard at work.. Harry had been beside him, with Jimmy on the other side. At the noise Jimmy looked fearful, George looked worried and Harry looked resigned. It was Harry who spoke.

"Women. Around a wedding. You had no idea of what Ginny was like the last few days before ours. I'll go check to make sure they're all still standing. Be right back." Harry trotted of to his own house.

There was a pause for a few seconds; the general getting to know you conversation that George had been fostering between Harry and Jimmy was replaced by a quieter understanding, although one still being got used to in new circumstances.

"You know, standing here with you in the back yard over a grill, things really don't seem all that different." Jimmy Castelli mused, holding a beer in one hand and looking over George's yards towards where the boys were still playing soccer as if they had endless energy reserves. As he spoke a pair of lawn gnomes went darting through the hedges, with Rufus the cat in high pursuit. "And then...something like that happens..." He deadpanned.

George groaned. "One thing I sure as hell didn't miss in my year in Salem...stupid gnomes. Thankfully I've only got a handful...you should have seen where I grew up."

Jimmy just shook his head, smiling in a bemused way. "I am still having a hard time wrapping my head around this. I've known for a while about Michelle, but I never conceptualized what exactly it meant." His eyes slid over to George curiously. "On Halloween when we were out drinking, you made a joke about riding a broom..._was_ it a joke?"

"I'm a pretty fair flyer, actually." George admitted. "Played the wizard equivalent of soccer, Quidditch, when I was in school. That's played in the air, on brooms...it's quite different in a lot of ways, but as you can probably guess, Alf's playing keeper for his house team now."

"Damned...knew you were more of an athlete than you let on. Your ear...was that a playing injury?" Jimmy asked, truly wondering just how different this world was.

"Hell no...if it were I wouldn't let Alf within ten feet of a game. No, this was a curse scar...there was a war, and I was part of a resistance movement of sorts. Alf's biological father, my twin brother, was killed later on in a great battle that took place at the school." George thought again about that book that Harry and the ministry were working on getting published; he had an early draft of how it had been rewritten (changing names appropriately). "I have something you and Tony could read, might make sense of some of the stuff going on around here."

A long picnic table had been set; Harry's family and guests would be joining them. Tomorrow night was at the Burrow, with a rehearsal dinner and the whole masses of Weasleys. George was kind of glad that Jimmy had come over yesterday, it gave him a day to acclimate to a whole lot of craziness.

Then, it would be Saturday. And he would be getting married. A strange flutter came up in his stomach at the thought. Unconsciously, he flipped a steak over aggressively and it shot about fifteen feet up in the air. "Oi!" He snapped out of his dreams and whipped out his wand to try to save it, to no avail; it hit the ground.

"I'm calling that one yours!" Jimmy crossed his arms, wagging his eyebrows.

George grimaced. "Fortunately there are plenty..." He shook his head in disbelief as Rufus streaked away from the gnomes and snatched the bit of beef, pulling it off to the side where it could be contemplated in a show of feline daintiness. "Better look towards getting those boys ready for dinner."

Jimmy tried to oblige. "Yo, boys! Food's up!" He yelled.

Naturally the boys either didn't hear, or chose not to notice. George smirked, pointed his wand at his throat, and intoned deeply, his voice echoing over the fields and off the neighboring households. "ANYONE NOT CLEAN AND AT THE TABLE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES WILL BE FORFEITING DESERT!"

Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "Oh, NOW you're just showing off!"

Immediately the soccer game came to a halt. The kids raced each other, Alf picking up Albus and Teddy scooping up James, thus letting CJ and Tony to get to the grill first. "Hey, Dad!" Tony yelled breathlessly, nudging Jimmy, before following CJ to the door to wash up. Teddy put James down, took Albus from Alf, and headed over towards the Potter house, and Alf leaned up hard against George, as if trying to rub himself clean.

"Ugh, you filthy beasty!" George laughed, backing away. "What makes you think that I want to share in your dirt!"

"You live for dirt." Alf noted, with a grin. "Except in the kitchen. What is for desert, anyway?"

"Wild blueberry pie...and you're not getting any if you're not back out here in...twelve minutes!"

"Right-o!" Alf darted off.

George was plating the steaks, Jimmy following suit with grilled chicken breasts. "Can I ask you something, George...that year, when Alf was so good at soccer, was that because of his magic?"

"No." George looked surprised. "Alf didn't have any magic then, Jimmy, that's why we were in hiding. He was raised a muggle and that was all he knew."

Jimmy sighed. "Then I'd hate to think how good he'd be now."

"That's why wizards don't interact competitively with muggles. We would have just a wee bit of advantage" George spotted the three ladies, Ginny, Karen, and his Michelle, laughing hard as they came over carrying plates, although each of them seemed a little...singed? He shrugged and decided he was better off not knowing. "Now, come on...here comes Harry's contingency with the rest of the fixings...wait till you try Ginny's Dragon-Liver Salad." George added.

Jimmy stood dead still. "You are kidding, George...right...right? George?????"

George merely gave Jimmy a slight smile and raised his eyebrows as he kept going towards the table.

WWWWWWW

Lee Jordan sat back a wing chair in the comfortable house…ruddy mansion, really…now owned by Viktor Krum, in Bulgaria. Viktor was by the fireplace, stoking the flames into a frenzy. In a chair opposite sat a man, thin and worn, but still dignified. His face was dark and clean shaven; his head was newly shorn, as it has been the only way to get the water-logged knots out of his hair. Dark eyes still rimmed with the horrors of war looked gratefully at the fire, and he wrapped a blanket more closely round himself.

"And you say my Angelina lives?" Matthias Morgainne whispered horsely, so unused was he to speaking. "They did not kill her, as they told me they did?"

"I guarantee you, Angelina is alive." Lee replied. "I saw her not long ago."

"I told her." Morgainne spoke slowly. "That should I be taken she should leave Uganda and never look back."

"She left Uganda." Lee spoke quietly. "But I can't quite say that she never looked back."

Krum spoke, though he was never a man for many words. "She asked us to help you. And we came."

"And we can get to England? I can see her?" Morgainne asked, his eyes now becoming hopeful.

"We're working on the transport issues. But trust me if I say, my life depends on getting back in two day's time." Lee shrugged. "And that you'll understand once you meet Michelle Fabry!"


	25. Ch 25 A Wedding! Really!

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

The wedding is tomorrow morning. I am trying to figure out who is more nervous at this point, Alf or his Dad.

George has been reflexively packing and unpacking for the week they plan on spending in Paris. Alf keeps smoothing out those dress robes on the hanger, stroking them as if they were a wary hippogriff. George paces when nobody is looking, running his hands through his hair. Alf absentmindedly re-arranges books as he passes by...usually also while running his hands through his hair. (It's really quite funny that they have the same nervous tics and don't even know it).

I think George may win the battle of more nervous, though: he put salt in his coffee. This is like an opera singer forgetting how to read music.

Alf and I are to spend the week with Ginny and Harry while Uncle George and Miss Shell are on their honeymoon. Teddy will be there too before going to spend a few weeks of the summer with his Gran, so it should be fun.

Not fun: I got a letter from my father today. Owled right over from Dubrovnic. Nothing incriminating, of course: Son...I hope the Weasleys are taking care of you. I hope that your behavior has been as we discussed. You know what I expect of you."

Every time I manage to forget for a few minutes that he owns my soul, somehow the reality rears its ugly head. But I refuse to think about it right now. Uncle Harry has an extensive library; perhaps I can find out something more about unbreakable vows over the next week.

Alf got a letter too, one from his sister Liv. It puzzled him a bit and he's been rather distracted the rest of the day...even Tony the muggle can't get him to talk.

I know I shouldn't refer to Tony that way...and I only do in my mind. But he's a year older than we are and sometimes when we're just hanging out, the four of us, I feel like he's so much ahead of us. And then one of us will do something completely innocent...like Teddy changing his hair emerald to match his dress robes...and Tony gets like a five year old. Only for a few seconds, mind, and then he tries to act all cool again. I'm still not sure if I like him or not.

Actually, if I'm honest (and if I can't be honest here, where can I be?) I think I just don't like that his being here reduces me somewhat. I mean, Alf's known Teddy for as long as he's known magic, so they'll always be buds, and he and Tony have this whole history from a time that I can barely understand. I think maybe I feel a little lost, like I don't matter to him so much right now. Even down to the fact that I have my own room, and Tony is sharing Alf's.

Hang on...someone at the door..."

WWWWWWW

George, after knocking on CJ's door, opened it once the boy had called out to him. He smiled to see CJ sitting on the bed, putting his diary away in the drawer on the night stand. "Still up, obviously, eh?" George came over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Not tired? The way you lot have been playing soccer non-stop would have me exhausted."

"A little tired." CJ admitted, giving him a slight smile. "But I wanted to finish up my diary entry first."

George reflexively pulled the sheet up a little higher, and smoothed the boy's hair out. "I'm glad you're making good use of it." George watched as the boy's dark eyes studied him; he could almost read the wariness there...CJ waiting to see if George were there because he was in trouble for something. He didn't flinch any more when George came up to him, but neither did he assume George might just want to check in on him, just make sure he was doing okay. He wasn't sure CJ would ever be able to fully trust anybody.

Actually, he wasn't there tonight _just_ to check in , though neither was the boy in trouble. "I know you got a letter from your father today." George said, squeezing his shoulder. "Do you mind if I ask what he said to you?"

Something like understanding came to CJ then, and without hesitation he reached into the nightstand drawer, fishing under the diary and pulling out the simple bit of parchment. "Here." He offered.

George took it slowly, rather surprised. "I won't read your mail if you don't want me to, CJ...I'm perfectly happy with you paraphrasing it for me." He waited for a response before opening it up.

"There isn't anything in there you can't see." CJ said, simply.

George opened it and read the few lines quickly, and let out a little huff. "You're right about that." He frowned. If he were away from Alf for as long as Amos Diggory were going to be away from CJ...not that he ever would be...his letter would have been pages and pages of information. Not three lines that at best sounded scolding. "I assume when he says to remember what he expects of you that he's talking about your behavior?"

"I am to be a paragon of propriety at all time in a manner that won't shame the memory of my brother." CJ's lips twisted slightly. "Something he considered that I failed at on a regular basis when I was living with him."

"Bollocks." George said, refolding the paper and tossing it back in to the drawer. "Your brother would have been exceedingly proud of you CJ, and your father has shamed Cedric's memory more by his behavior to you, than you ever could if you tried." George saw CJ blink, and just the faintest hint of wetness in his eyes. He cleared his throat; there was more purpose to this little talk then getting CJ all mushy. "Anyway, what I really wanted was to make sure you were feeling okay about next week."

CJ's brow furled downward in confusion. "Okay how, Sir?"

"Hush with the Sir. And 'okay' in staying with Harry and Ginny. I know you're probably feeling a tad displaced as it is, and I don't want you thinking that I'm abandoning you." George watched the boy carefully, more concerned with what his eyes would tell him than his words.

Those eyes softened, and CJ gave him that rare full smile that somehow seemed to change his face totally. And quite suddenly he reached up and hugged George-it was the first time George ever saw CJ initiate such a thing. "I'll be just fine. Alf will be there...and I'm sure the elves will follow."

George squeezed him back. "Ah, yes...your bodyguards. Ginny may not let them come back here once she gets used to them."

"And you'd be happy to let her keep them." CJ laughed just a little, and let go, sinking back down to the pillow; George rearranged the sheet on top of him once more. "I'll be fine...Alf and I both will...you go and don't even think about us."

"Ha!" George rose slowly, feeling greatly relieved. "Not only will we think about you both, we'll miss you."

"You still nervous?" CJ asked.

"Terrified that she'll come to her senses and change her mind." George ran his hands through his hair and then wondered why CJ seemed to be smirking at him. "That, and I'm still not certain that my friend Lee Jordan will be able to get here with his guests. I'd really like for that to be settled. Anyhoo, you don't need to be worried about me, kiddo. Get some sleep now."

"You, too." CJ said, turning over on to his side with a yawn.

_As if I'll be able to._ But George felt relieved that he'd taken care of at least one of his worries.

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY:

That was Uncle George. Wanting to make sure I'm all right. Wanting to make sure my father didn't upset me. Wanting to make sure I'll be okay while he is gone.

I'm not alright, completely, but I can't tell him that. My father did upset me, but I don't think I let that show, because George is good and he'd want to talk about how my father upset me, and I can't. But I will be okay while he is gone, and I will keep trying to find a way out of this.

Every time I realize that he cares about me, a part of me melts, and a part of me fears that I am only going to hurt him myself one day.

But not tomorrow. And not next week. And not this summer. And that's enough for now.

WWWWWWW

Michelle rose early the next day, feeling refreshed and alive. Quietly she slipped out of the Potter house with a cup of tea, and stared out over the fields beyond, into the early morning sunshine. It was just past 7:30.

"Miss Shell?"

She turned in surprise. "Hey, Alf...what on earth are you doing up so early?" She smiled at him, and moved to sit down on a stone bench; Alf immediately came over and sat next to her, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip. _So like George_, she thought, and instinctively she went to push his bangs out of his forehead.

"I wanted to ask you something, and I thought it would be a little nuts later on." He sighed and set his shoulders, looking her in the eye. "Why did you go to my Mum's grave?"

"Ah." She should have known he'd find out. "Got a letter from your sister, did you?"

Alf nodded just once, and went on. "Dad didn't love her, you know. I mean, I think he had a crush on her once, but that's it. I don't want you to think...well...that you have to be up against her, because you're not." He stammered the whole statement out while barely breathing.

"Hold on!" Michelle set her cup of tea down, and grasped Alf's hands. "Are you thinking that I'm worried about your Dad considering me a replacement of sorts?"

Alf paused. "Well...why else would you be there?" He asked, quite simply.

"Because of you, Alf." She squeezed his hands gently. "Look, a year and a half ago I might have wondered how I compared to your Dad's first wife...when I thought he'd had a first wife. I know now it was a good deal more complicated than that. But I'm marrying George, not Fred. I know your Dad loves me." She rubbed her thumbs against him soothingly. "I went there to make a promise to her...that I would care for you. Because she can't. Maybe it sounds silly, maybe it is silly, but it was just something I needed to do."

"Oh." Alf's face went momentarily blank. "Really?"

"Really." She reached forward and kissed him on the forehead. "I can't imagine how her last days must have been...the worry about the children she knew she was leaving behind must have consumed her. And no matter how much she hoped George would be willing to be there for you, she couldn't have known exactly what state his life was in, or how it was going to continue. No, as a woman, Alf, I owed it to her, to try and find a way to let her know she could trust me with your care. I don't know if it worked...I think it did...but I needed to try, no matter what."

Alf blushed a tad. "Sorry...I mean, I knew that you knew about how my Mum was with Fred, but I didn't think you'd go all the way to Sheffield just for me."

"Hey..." She playfully tapped him on the chest. "None of that now...there is no 'just for me.' We're family now, and family does all kinds of crazy stuff for each other. Now go. If I know your Dad, he's probably already awake, has lost the ring and spilled coffee all over his shirt. He needs his best man!" She rubbed his head, and Alf popped up with a lopsided grin.

"To be awake would make it sound like he'd slept, which I don't think he did." Alf added in, then looked at her in some surprise. "YOU look very calm."

"This is a perfect day for me, Alf. I am marrying the man that I love. Nothing else really matters." She felt herself glowing, as she hugged herself tightly in the morning sun. Alf gave her that flashing grin as he ran back off. As he popped in to his own house...the one that would soon be hers as well, Michelle heard George's groan. "Has anybody seen the bloody _ring?_"

She chuckled. A good day already, indeed!

WWWWWWW

"I've forgotten everything!" George moaned.

Alf was quite calm. "No, you haven't!"

"I keep losing the ring...my shirt is stained...and I can't remember my ruddy vows, Alf!" He sat down on the bed in frustration, then threw himself backwards. Alf came around the bed so he was looking right down at his father's face from up above; arms crossed, smirking slightly.

"First, if you should forget the vows, just remember that all you need to know is that you love her and you are promising to spend the rest of your life with her. Everything else will follow. Second, Dixie...or maybe it was Delwyn, I can't tell them apart, is removing the coffee stain from your shirt even as we speak...and here it is!" Alf nodded as the house elf in question came in with a gleaming white dress shirt...Alf forced his father to sit upright and assisted him into it, as Delwyn bowed low and backed away.

"I'm wrinkled." George frowned as he got into the dress robes that flowed over his base suit. Alf, with a patient sigh, took out his wand and muttered a quick spell that Eileen had taught him; the robe flowed suddenly as if freshly pressed.

"You're not supposed to do magic!" George muttered, though he looked relieved.

"Right. Ground me if you wish." Alf joked, and George just rolled eyes at him. "Now, lastly, I have the rings-yours and hers!" Alf took them out, and held them in front of George. "I will not lose the rings, Dad. And we will be there together, on time, without worries. Although not if we don't leave within the next fifteen minutes!"

George exhaled. "Did Jimmy and Tony go?"

"Gramps came an hour ago to get them to Hogwarts, along with CJ...you were trying to drown yourself in the shower." Alf looked faintly wistful. "I think he's resurrected the flying car!"

"No...Mum will kill him!" George nearly smirked, though it looked like it might make his face crack.

"Yeah, but I bet Tony and Jimmy are having the times of their lives!" Alf added. "Now...shall we get to the floo?"

George took a deep breath, and then looked Alf over carefully. With suddenly steady hands he reached over and undid Alf's crooked tie, redoing it into a perfect bow. "We're ready now. And may I say, I think we both look smashing."

"Of course we do!" Alf said, his eyes wide. "We are strikingly handsome men, we are!"

_Pure Fred, _George though, with a wistful twinge.

WWWWWWW

CJ, Teddy and Tony were ushering guests as they arrived on the Hogwarts grounds; they were in slightly less fancy robes but still made an impressive sight, even Tony, who had insisted that he wanted to be in robes too.

"I mean, I can't wear a _suit_. You might as well hang a sign around my neck that says 'muggle!'" He'd protested to his bemused father.

CJ watched now as he and Teddy managed to make it so that Tony escorted the incredibly ancient and apparently disliked Aunt Muriel to her seat.

"Now, young man…I'll have no funny business. You're one of those friends of that boy, I suppose…if you're around that Fred you can't' be anything but trouble. Or was it George who lived, and Fred who died? Never could tell…"

By the time Tony got back to them he and Teddy were standing there trying to look innocent, as if they hadn't planned that.

"It is a good thing that I'm not a wizard…that woman would be jinxed in to oblivion by now." Tony muttered. "What a witch."

"Literally. And that's not considered slander here." Teddy smirked. "And a hex would work better than a jinx…say, furnunculus. Boils all over her face."

The three of them paused, and then CJ stated the obvious. "Would it make a difference?"

They snickered quietly.

"Ah, Boys." Arthur came up to them, eyebrows raised. "Not up to anything, I hope."

"Oh, no Sir." They said in unison, suddenly looking quite angelic.

"Right. Not that you have to fear me…but Molly is keeping an eye on you. The woman raised six boys and Ginny…you have a better shot of getting a quaffle past Alf than any pranks past her." Arthur winked.

CJ had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing out loud.

"I've got next…" Teddy smoothed his robes down and went forward.

"Friend of the bride or groom?" He asked, with exceeding politeness.

Lee Jordan smiled down at him. "Both, I hope…but though I fear Michelle, I've known George longer."

CJ gaped. There was a tall, dignified black wizard with them who looked as though he could use a good meal; CJ had no clue who he was. But beside him was a powerfully built wizard, not so tall but wiry and lean, with a chiseled face. "Oh, my God…it's KRUM! VIKTOR KRUM! Blasted lucky Teddy!" He half moaned.

"Can I ask who Krum would be?" Tony asked, watching as Teddy escorted the trio to seats.

"He's only the greatest Quidditch seeker the world has ever seen. Well, I've heard Uncle Harry could have been that good if he decided to play pro…but Krum, he was unstoppable." CJ desperately tried to think of something that would put this in perspective…he'd been around George Weasley and the rigged television to have picked up some muggle sports…not to mention Miss Shell's class for a year. "Um, it's kind of like David Ortiz. Only magic."

_That_ Tony understood. "Whoa! I didn't know Alf's dad knew any celebrities!"

CJ thought Uncle Harry would probably be highly gratified to hear that. But there was no way to explain Harry Potter to Tony.

Teddy, looking ecstatic, floated back. "Krum just gave us a Galleon each if we guarantee that when Professor Morgainne arrives we escort her to the seat with them."

"Cool!" Tony took the bit of gold reverently. "Wicked souvenir!"

CJ looked imploringly at Teddy. "You can have _mine_ if I can take her over. C'mon Teddy…I want to talk to Krum too!"

Teddy tossed him the Galleon anyway. "I can play fair, Ceej…she's all yours." His eyes went a glinting gold. "Never thought I'd hear you beg to escort Morgainne the Gorgon anywhere!'

"Shattup." CJ flushed.

Time passed slowly. There was still forty-five minutes to the ceremony. The wind was starting to pick up.

"There she is." Teddy nudged him at once.

CJ came forward, his stomach fluttering slightly. With a bow, he offered his arm. "Professor Morgainne? May I escort you to your seat?"

Tall, proud, and severe, she looked down at CJ. And for the first time he saw her smile. "You may, Mr. Diggory."

WWWWWWW

Angelina nearly hadn't gone to the wedding. It hurt to much, with Matthias still somewhere in Uganda. She knew George had been sincere in his offer to help her find him, but she also knew that it wasn't likely that much would get done before the wedding. And she couldn't blame George; the man was in love, had a business, had a kid…and an extra ward, no less…in short, he had a life. And he couldn't put it on hold to help her out. And how many of the old lot would help her out anyway? So going to the wedding, alone, was of no great appeal.

But no. She would not be a coward any longer. She would see George get married to Michelle, who really loved him, and she would see him happier than she had ever imagined he would be again, and she would be pleased about it. Really.

Staying away would make it look like sour grapes. And it wasn't, not anymore.

She was surprised when she arrived to see CJ Diggory willingly come forward and offer her his arm; she had not been kind to the young man all year. But he was quite polite and surprisingly genteel for a twelve year old boy; she accepted with a smile, and followed where he lead.

Had she been paying attention, and not lost in her own worries, she might have noticed that he lead her past open seats near old school mates, all of whom were looking as if they would willingly accept her with them. But CJ was moving with purpose towards a particular spot. Not that it mattered to her.

A man rose by the seat which young Diggory was directing her to. "Angelina?" A deep voice resonated.

She looked up into the eyes of the wizard before her, and in a rush of an instance she realized what a fool she had been all year. This was the only man she loved.

"Matthias?" She whispered, shaking slightly as she reached up to stroke his face.

Her husband...alive and well...smiled down at her. "Your friends seem to have worked a miracle for you, love."

Suddenly, the proud, stern potions professor evaporated, and Angelina shrieked, a shriek of pure joy, as she leapt into Matthias' arms, wrapping herself around him. And he laughed, loud and hard and almost giddy, as he swung her around.

Just beyond the decorated grounds, Angelina caught just a glimpse of George Weasley, sticking his head out of a tented area, to find the source of the commotion. As he realized what had happened, he smiled at her.

"Thank you." She mouthed at him. He gave her a semi-mocking salute.

Thank you. It would never be enough. Because he had given her everything.

WWWWWWW

It was time.

George waited at the front of the assembly, just beside the podium which Kingsley Shacklebolt would be using to conduct the ceremony. Not every person had the luck to have the Minister of Magic perform their wedding; but then the Weasleys were not just any family. Alf, very subtly, reached over and patted George on the back, a familiar gesture between the two of them.

The chairs Hagrid had assembled on the lawn were full; those people who knew mostly George had spilled over to the bride's side, since Michelle was not blessed with a multitude of family. _That's about to change big time_. He thought, smiling a little. Even blasted Aunt Muriel had shown up; he noticed his father shooting dangerous looks at her periodically, and wondered what nonsense she was spouting now.

The wind rustled at his robes, a surprisingly icy blast, even for the Scottish highlands.

He forced himself to focus. There now, there were Jimmy and Tony, looking exhilarated and amazed from their ride in a flying car. He looked forward to introducing the pair to Kingsley during the reception; Kingsley was interested in continuing to make joint ventures in the muggle world, and this would be a perfect chance.

His brothers were spread out in the assembly, each with their respective wives and offspring. Victoire kept shooting glances over to Teddy, who was looking particularly handsome, George thought. He wondered if Teddy would ever have a chance, should his beautiful, headstrong and part veela niece decide to choose him!

Of course, there was Charlie, proudly single and perhaps a little worried that Molly and Fleur's match-making attempts were about to change their focus. His brother met his eye and gave him a firm "thumbs-up", George managed a smile back.

Speaking of Molly, there she was in the front row, already dabbing at her eyes, which brought a lump to his own throat. It was barely two years ago when the two of them were hardly speaking to each other, because of a lifetime of misunderstandings. That had all changed...because of Alf.

Because of Alf. How much in his life that made everything he had so worth living for was because of Alf? The best thing that had ever happened to him, without question, and the reason that Alf was the one standing beside him right now as his best man.

Just as the music started, George leaned down to his son., putting his hand on his shoulder. "I cannot ever tell you how much you mean to me, Alf."

Alf glanced up at him. "If it's anything near to what you mean to me, then I know."

The strains of Pachelbel's Canon floated over the grounds, and he saw Michelle's friend Karen enter, wearing a simple red silk dress which flowed gracefully around her. And then he stared, as if stunned, as he first caught glimpse of Michelle, as if he had never seen her before. _Good heavens, what is a woman like that doing agreeing to marry a silly bloke like me?_

She floated...there was no other word for it, down the center aisle, the wispy skirts trailing about her like clouds. Her hair was half pulled up and secured with braids of tiny red rose buds, the remaining hair falling in waves over her bare shoulders and down her back. The top the dress seemed to shimmer and sparkle in the camera flashes going on around her. There was no shimmer from the sun; though George had barely registered the fact, the day had become quite overcast.

As Michelle came up next to him, her green eyes shining into his, she handed off the bouquet that she carried to Karen. Karen and Alf then moved of just slightly to the side, and George took Michelle's hands. Truly he thought that if a thousand dung bombs went off, he wouldn't notice.

"Friends...family...those beloved by Michelle and by George..." Kingsley began to intone.

There was a splash on George's nose. He ignored it.

"The lifetime bond occasioned by a magical union is not one to be entered into without careful thought. As two young people begin a journey together..."

_Young people_. George nearly laughed; he was over thirty, and Michelle was two years older. They hadn't exactly rushed into this crazily.

Another couple of drops splashed on Michelle's shoulders. Her dress seemed spelled to repel any potential hazards, but that rain must be cold. He reached over and wiped her shoulder dry, and she smiled at him even more beautifully.

"...Vows made to love one another, through all hardships and all joy, through whatever life may send their way..."

And at that moment, the threatening clouds made good; water streamed down on them in torrents. A distant rumble of thunder was heard.

Kingsley went on, raising his voice over the now howling winds, as guests scrambled for umbrellas or more magical forms of protection. "And George and Michelle have shown their deep commitment to each other, and to their new family, and intend to grow that commitment in the coming days..."

There was a shriek from the assembly. Michelle's hair flew out behind her. Nearly Headless Nick, who had been watching the proceedings, flew back towards the castle as if he'd been deflated by Peeves. The trees waved wildly, and he saw Hagrid trying to shoo a flock of storm-swallows which swooped over the crowd.

_What the hell? _Kingsley wrapped his robes around him, and looked worried; Michelle's skirts were frothed up, George's robes billowed out. There was another grumble of thunder and a flash, and a few folks ran towards the great hall; he thought he saw Minerva McGonagall magically moving the catering in that direction. _This can't be happening!_

Then he looked at Michelle, eyes wide, and suddenly, together, they laughed. Great peals of laughter that over-rode the storm. After everything else they had been through, why on earth shouldn't he have expected this?

Kingsley was clearing his throat, and George yelled out loud, grasping Michelle's hands in his and holding them before the Minister. "THE BLOODY WEATHER BE DAMNED...I LOVE THIS WOMAN, AND I WILLINGLY BIND MY LIFE TO HERS!"

Michelle threw her hair back proudly. "AND I LOVE THIS MAN, AND I WILLINGLY BIND MY LIFE TO HIS!"

Alf handed Shacklebolt the two rings, and he waved his wand over them, before handing one to George, and one to Michelle; they placed the rings on each other, ignoring the chaos about them, and re-grasped each other; a silver wisp of light wrapped around their clasped hands.

Kingsley yelled as loud as he could. "Ladies and Gentlemen...Michelle and George Weasley..."

The rest of what he said was lost in the storm, but that was unnecessary; George knew damned well enough what to do and he swept in with a kiss, one that she matched passionately, and he wrapped arms around her, swinging her about and laughing in the storm as the resolute photographer (Dennis Creevy, actually) kept snapping away.

Then, as fast as the storm came up, the clouds parted, though it still rained. A beam of sun shot through, and a rainbow formed, right over George and Michelle.

_Way to go, Fred. Wondered if you'd manifest yourself somehow._ George thought, looking up at the sky even as Michelle nuzzled his chin.

He realized Alf was tugging at his robes, and looked down at his son.

"Everyone else is running for the great hall." Alf's eyes twinkled. "I wouldn't count _somebody_ holding the wild weather at bay for too long!"

"Gotcha. Let's run for it ourselves then!" George nodded, and he wrapped an arm around his new bride, and held his son's hand, as they took of for safety, and dryness.

WWWWWWW

An hour later, the laughter seemed contagious. CJ watched with great happiness as George greeted guests with a wide smile, Michelle never leaving his side. The food had been moved in with surprising ease (although with magic perhaps not so surprising) and background music accompanied the variety of people milling about, champagne in their flutes, as hot Hors D'Oeuvres were passed before dinner commenced.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to find himself staring into the face of Viktor Krum. And his mouth merely fell open, and he couldn't speak a word.

"You brought Mrs. Morgainne back to our seats, yes?" The severe looking wizard asked.

"Yes...um...Mr. Krum...sir." CJ stuttered out.

Krum's face changed as he smiled. "I believe I recognize you...your brother was Cedric Diggory, yes?"

CJ gaped. "Yes...he is...was. I mean, he died before I was born."

Krum nodded slowly, sighing. "I know. Perhaps you were not aware, but I was a part of that competition, the tri-wizard tournament. I represented my school, Durmstrang."

"Oh." CJ was stunned. His father had harped so much on the deceitful Harry Potter and the evil Weasleys that none of the other players in that event ever seemed to figure in the story. "I didn't know."

Krum put a friendly hand on CJ's shoulder. "Dark days, those...not that I knew it, nor your brother, nor Mr. Potter or your Aunt Fleur...she, you know, represented Beauxbatons. And yet friends I made then that have stayed with me longer than all my other days at school. Your brother was a good man. I believe that I would have counted him as a friend as well, if fortune had permitted."

CJ swallowed hard; how could he just have taken everything his father told him at face value without learning more? "Thank you." CJ finally mustered out. "I've always been a big fan of yours." He added, feeling just a tad stupid.

Krum smiled widely once more, and at once he whipped out a Quidditch card from his last season; with a flourish he signed it. "I hope, young CJ, that you find the greatness that your brother was destined for." He handed over the card, and then rubbed CJ's head.

CJ held the card reverently. It was funny; what Krum had wished him wasn't so different from what his father had tried to beat in to him, only the motives were far, far apart.

His reverie was interrupted by Alf, who looked angry, annoyed, and flustered. All in all, very much not like Alf! "Ceej...I need to speak with you...privately..." He tugged at him without ceremony, and CJ followed Alf at once.

WWWWWWW

They found a quiet alcove, just by the bathrooms outside the great hall. "Geez, Alf, what's gotten in to you?" CJ wondered, for Alf was pacing, running his hands through his hair, and muttering darkly under his breath.

"I'm going to curse her, CJ…beyond oblivion. And I need you to tell me I'm not crazy." Alf said, turning at once and staring, wild eyed, at CJ.

"Whoa!" CJ held his hands up to try and calm Alf down. "Who is it you're cursing, exactly?"

"Aunt Muriel!" Alf said at once.

"And why…"

Alf rushed on. "She's going to upset Dad! Firstly, she keeps calling him Fred, which is bad enough, and then she bad mouths Fred and George together and has implied more than once that they ought to have both died. And she's insulting Miss Shell, and I won't have that, I won't! She keeps calling her this wanton witch buying her way into a famous family, she even called her a…" Alf's face went pale and he looked faintly ill as he said more quietly, "…a _whore!_" He gave himself a little shake. "And I won't have it, I won't…I won't have Dad upset today, and especially not by HER!" Alf stomped his foot down.

"Okaaaaaaaaay." CJ spoke slowly. He'd never seen Alf like this before, and wanted to keep him, if not calm, at least not frothing at the mouth. "And you don't think it would upset your dad to have you…his son…disobey the decree against underage magic in a violent and aggressive manor that causes somebody harm?" He said at last.

"I'm not going to KILL her!" Alf objected.

"You could still get yourself into quite a bit of trouble. This isn't like using alohamora when nobody is looking at home. And think how upset…how _hurt_…your Dad would be if you did something like that?" CJ saw that hit home, as Alf paused. "Look, remember when I first got there for Christmas and you two were upset with each other over a silly misunderstanding? Do you really want him to go off on his honeymoon feeling like _that?_"

"You do not fight fair!" Alf grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "So what you're saying is, either Aunt Muriel is going to upset him, or I am, but either way, he's going to be hurt?"

"Right. Except I don't think he cares so much about Aunt Muriel as he does you." CJ added.

Alf huffed, puffing his hair up from his forehead, and leaned back against the wall, arms folded before him. "I don't like this one bit. What gives her the right, anyway, just because she's old, to come in and say bad things about people?"

CJ mused on that. "From what I've heard, she's been like that for longer than she's been OLD." He thought some more. "Why me, anyway, Alf? Why not snag Teddy or Tony?"

Alf looked at CJ as if he thought CJ were nuts. "Teddy and Tony might technically have known Dad longer…but I don't think they know him as well as you do. I mean, you live with us…you're as good as my brother…who else would I go to?"

CJ flushed, remembering some of his less than happy thoughts about his standing in Alf's life from just yesterday. And that prompted another thought. "I…could…do it!"

"What? Oh, no, CJ…no way!" Alf said at once.

"Why not?" The idea seemed to grow better with each second. "I mean, nobody will get as mad at me…they'll probably blame my father and my lousy upbringing for losing my patience. Your Dad as good as saved my life…why wouldn't I object to how she's talking about him? And he wouldn't get so mad at me…he'd cut me a little slack, anyway…it's not like he'd send me away…um, he wouldn't, right?" CJ hesitated.

"He _wouldn't_, but doesn't matter, Ceej, I can't let you do this…and he might cut you a little more slack, but he'd still be upset by it…and I don't want to see you in trouble, either!" Alf protested.

"You were willing to get yourself in trouble." CJ argued back.

"Different case entir…"

There was a loud rumbling bang, followed by a shriek and the strangest noises of agitation CJ and Alf had ever heard. CJ looked at Alf in alarm.

"You DIDN'T set anything up before you came and got me, did you?" He worried.

"No…swear I didn't!"

They both darted back into the great hall, where a little puff of smoke was clearing and where the band had gone silent. All the guest were staring in one area.

Alf paled, CJ put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

Aunt Murial was there. Or at least, something wearing Aunt Muriel's dress. Something that greatly resembled a giant, five foot tall chicken which began floating up to the enchanted ceiling. And it was squawking and waving its wings, shedding feathers and raising a holy ruckus.

"Who ON EARTH???" Headmistress McGonagall came forward.

And then Alf and CJ saw something else…Karen Brookes and Lee Jordan were on either side of the floating chicken, each with their wands drawn. And the entire room burst in to laughter.

Teddy came up to them at once, with Tony behind him. "You should have seen! Lee used a transfiguration spell, and at the same time without even planning it, Karen inflated her! I guess the crazy bat was running off at the mouth about Fred and George, and Michelle, and they both just lost it!"

"This place ROCKS!" Tony said, with a wide grin.

Alf and CJ, stunned for the moment, watched as Professor Sprout managed to get the ballooned Muriel out of the hall, with Madam Pomfrey beside her, no doubt to help with the remedy. And then suddenly, from up front, somebody let out a loud whoop.

"IT'S ABOUT BLOODY TIME!" Molly Weasley yelled, starting the applause by standing on top of the head table.

Everyone, including the boys, joined in.

WWWWWWW

As the evening drew to a close, George gave Michelle a kiss as she left him to change into an outfit more suitable for traveling. It was nearly one in the morning, but Krum had arranged a special treat…a flying carpet to take them to Paris. Not technically legal, but every once in a while the rules could be bent.

He looked about the room as the last few guests staggered away. Professor McGonagall had a decided spring in her step, mainly thanks to Ron. George had started it; after the first dance he'd spotted the headmistress off by herself, and had flung Ron at her. It was an old joke, and Ron had been quite flustered; Harry nearly doubled over at the memory it brought up. But Ron had risen above them both; and with great aplomb proceeded to waltz the startled Minerva all over the room.

Naturally none of her former students wished to be outdone. And one by one, from Lee to Neville, even to Draco Malfoy, they had each had a dance with her. Even George, who could swear he heard Fred snickering the entire time.

_Brother, you don't know what you missed…the old bird's quite agile and a good bit of fun, really._ He thought.

They had untransfigured and deflated Aunt Muriel, but the woman, after calling him Fred twice and cursing him mightily, swore she would never speak to anyone in the family again. George found himself quite fine with that!

One other surprising event had happened. Michelle had approached him earlier with a curious cat-gotten-in-to-the-cream look on her face, and had gently pulled him aside. Where he could just glance into a half hidden alcove, in which Michelle's best friend...Karen...was seriously snogging George's best friend, Lee! "A good thing I've gotten used to him!" She'd sighed in mock exasperation. Even now, hours later and after watching Karen and Lee very quietly leave together, the thought still make George chuckle.

Then he spotted Alf and CJ at a table, admiring a collector's card that CJ had managed to procure from Krum, and he approached them.

"Boys. I'll be off soon…" Before he could finish, Alf had sprung up and given him a hug. "Ooof. Take care of yourself, now, it will only be a week and Uncle Harry knows how to reach me…" He said, rubbing Alf's head.

"So do I!" Alf reminded him, pulling out the spelled medallion that helped to bind them. " But we won't need to."

"Just remember that you can!" He repeated, then looked over to CJ, who had risen more shyly.

"Have a good trip, Sir…er…Uncle George…"

"Oh, hush!" George said, pulling CJ into the hug with Alf. "Stay out of trouble, both of you…and start thinking of all the crazy things we can do this summer when Shell and I get back." George spotted Harry getting ready to take the family to Hogsmeade so they could apparate. "Get on with you, now…" He smiled at the boys as they headed away, then had a thought. "Oh, and boys?"

"NO FIREWORKS!" They called back to him in unison, with wide grins.

George laughed, and waved as they headed out, before he spotted Michelle waiting for him, in simple jeans and a sweatshirt, nearly exactly as how he'd first seen her back in Salem. He walked over and took her hand, and knew that he was the luckiest man in the world.


	26. Ch 26 Addendum

ADDENDUM

Amos Diggory was, in fact, a mad man. But few people knew it. He was, as a modern psychologist might say, "highly functional." Meaning, essentially, he did a pretty damned good job of hiding the fact that sanity was for him a ship that set sail the day his oldest son died.

Amos didn't of course consider himself mad. _Voldemort_ had been mad. No, he was just a grieving father seeking justice for his dead child. The fact that he had chosen to place blame on the blameless and engage in conduct that oldest child would never have approved of was beyond his comprehension.

Enjoying life, however, while his younger son, his pawn, was being the careful instrument of his revenge, wasn't out of the question. And he was enjoying this little posting in Dubrovnic quite well.

Dubrovnic was a beautiful city; blue on blue waters that lapped up on to stone slab beaches; the old city on high, seeming almost to have been carved from the mountains that surrounded it, and a bevy of islands that offered endless hikes and opportunities for reflection and solitude.

Amos didn't give a damn about any of that.

He'd quickly learned that to be stationed in Dubrovnik was to be seldom in Dubrovnik. He instead spent countless hours in various urbane localities, this time in Chisinau, the capital of Moldavia. Here his buddy Lucius Malfoy was working covertly with a group of dark wizards not unlike the Death Eaters. There was a wizard there…his name quite escaped Amos, and Amos liked it that way…who fancied himself the next Voldemort.

Well, let him, Amos thought. Nothing mattered to Amos except revenging himself on his enemies…or enemy now, George Weasley. He had considered once trying to seek revenge on Harry Potter, the boy responsible for Cedric's death, but it was never so much Cedric's death that bothered him.

Cedric had been destined for great things. One look at the boy could tell anyone that. And even in death, greatness might have been possible. If Cedric had only gotten the credit he deserved for winning that tri-wizard tournament! Because he had won the tournament, he _had_; the story Potter told of Cedric and he grasping the trophy together always had rung hollow to him.

He remembered saying so to his wife, after they'd refused Potter's guilty conscience offering of that money. And she'd responded: _But Amos, it is __**exactly**__ what our Cedric would have done!_ He'd dismissed it then, and he dismissed it now.

He hadn't realized until later that the money would have been useful, could have provided a way to buy Cedric a memorial, have a portrait done, in general to spread the word about the true Hogwart's champion. It had been that oaf Hagrid who'd confided in him where the money had gone, after having been plied with several pints of ale.

A joke shop! Those _Weasley Twins_? Heck, Amos wasn't even sure Cedric had liked those boys. He'd railed about it without stopping to his wife when he'd found out.

_Of course Cedric liked the boys, Amos. Don't you remember he played youth Quidditch with them? He was their Captain? High spirits, he always said, but he said they made him laugh._

He'd ignored her then, just like he'd ignored her when she claimed she wasn't sure she could handle a pregnancy…she'd had Cedric just fine, hadn't she. Then she went and died in childbirth…he should have known that indicated that the boy was inferior.

Not so inferior, perhaps. It had taken…persuasion…but he was quite confident that CJ was obtaining the objective. He had no choice now.

"Ah, Amos." Lucius Malfoy slid in across him, in a booth in a dingy pub in Chisinau. "How were your meetings with Minister Filipowsi?"

Filipowski was the current and embattled leader of the federation of Eastern European Wizardry.

"Interminable, as always." Amos shrugged. "He asks a thousand questions…and I provide him with few answers."

"Remember your duties. We expect you to let him believe he is losing the confidence of the British. Very, very subtly, of course. You sow the dissent…we will move in when it is time." Lucious caught the rather vacant look that suddenly came over Amos' face. "Diggory. I am serious about this. We had an agreement…I would witness the unbreakable vow…and you would provide us access to the inner workings of Filipowski's government."

"Agreed, of course. Whatever you need." Amos shrugged, salivating at the thought of CJ in the role of parasite on the Weasley household. It would destroy George, Amos smirked, when he realized that a child he'd harbored had brought down his empire.

Mafoy shook his head with a wry smirk. "Whatever happened to you, Amos Diggory? Pure hearted Amos. Here you are setting things into motion that could undermine all of Europe, Britain included, and you don't even care. Do you truly hate the Weasleys so much?"

"Just George." Amos said, a strange glint coming in to his eyes. "My only regret from the battle of Hogwarts is that Fred died before I could touch him."

Malfoy raised a glass to him. "I have no love for the entire family, curse my blasted progeny who has gone to their side. But there is so much more out there to be chosen."

"Look, Malfoy…you have your goals. I have mine. The fact that we can use each other to obtain them is helpful." Amos clinked glasses, and downed his ale.

"Indeed." Malfoy's eyes went icy cold. "You are sure of your boy? Children are capable of being such a disappointment?"

Amos guffawed. "What's he going to do, die instead of fulfilling the vow? What choice does the little blighter have?"

WWWWWWW

In London, Kingsley Shaklebolt was speaking, via floo, with Kasimir Filipowski. "Malfoy. You're sure, then?"

"I am." Filipowski gave a grave little smile. "Your man lead us right to him. You are sure that this Diggory doesn't realize that you know he's been gotten to?"

"Diggory is unaware of anything except for some perverse delusions that even I can't explain. He hates his living son, and has put his dead one on a pedestal so high he can't even see it anymore. He thinks he's being allowed out of the country for the sole reason of keeping him away from his child. Has no clue we have other plans." Kingsley rubbed at his chin slowly. "He is mad, but his madness is useful to us."

"Well, as long as he keeps leading us to those who plot against us. We will not have another Grindelwald. Or Voldemort. Or anything even close. Never again." Filipowski vowed.

"Agreed. We will not let it happen." Kinsgley looked over a photo from George Weasley's wedding, and spotted CJ Diggory shyly waving out at him from next to George's son Alfred. "No matter what the cost."

WWWWWWW

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This concludes part 3 of We Belong. There will be a fourth and final part, which will tie up all the lose ends you are no doubt wondering about, not the least of which is will CJ be able to get out of the mess his father has ensnared him in?

Expect part V to begin within a week or so.

Thanks again to all my loyal readers. Your feedback is invaluable and I'm glad you've enjoyed the ride!


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